


Thinking Their Own Kisses Sin

by helloearthlings



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Literary References & Allusions, Love, M/M, Science Fiction, Separations, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-06-08 18:05:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 28,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6867832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helloearthlings/pseuds/helloearthlings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love, Arthur had been taught from a very young age, was nothing more than pain and suffering, and the world was much better off without it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Before

**Author's Note:**

> So Raven tells me that this fic is based on a YA novel named 'Delirium' that I read in like sixth grade. I really don't know. I just know I had an an idea for a fic and I read a book like it once. I'm not using any part of the plot, only the concept, which is a world where people have an operation to remove their ability to love. Besides, this is fic, and I can and will bastardize any form of media that I want. I included all kinds of love in this definition, and tried to do my best to if not address the ace/aro spectrum, than at least be respectful of it. Let me know if I failed that in any respect.
> 
> This is Part I of II, by the way! Because as of publishing this first part, this is not 'angst with a happy ending'. I hope to have Part II up by this weekend. Feel free to hit me over the head with a book if I don't.
> 
> Speaking of books, I reference a lot of them - you don't need to have read Brave New World, 1984, or Pride and Prejudice to understand the plot, but it might make it easier on you to read a summary on SparkNotes. Definitely not necessary, but there are some subtleties, references, parallels - the works.
> 
> Anyway, I worked really hard on this, and I hope you enjoy it. Please, please, please leave a comment if you liked it! I've been working for pretty much twenty-four hours straight and want it to pay off. Thanks for reading!

Love, Arthur had been taught from a very young age, was nothing more than pain and suffering, and the world was much better off without it.

Surely society was more efficient, more stable, healthier – without love, children were not split between their parents; their environments would never be hostile. People would stay put with family and romance blocked from their mind. They could be contained within city walls, kept to keep their corner of the world running. They would dedicate their lives to working and childrearing, and the society would run smoothly and without fail.

And after the wars and riots of the late twenty-first century, the world was in desperate need for something, anything, to bring balance to society, to help them regain stasis instead of being in a state of constant digression.

As it turned out, all that the world needed was for each of its inhabitants to be injected with a serum at age twenty-one that would prevent them from loving another human being. Though it was primarily in place to prevent romantic love, it helped people from forming too tight bonds in friendship and from putting their family above the needs of the society.

Arthur knew that the operation was aptly named; not only was it surgical, but it contributed to the operation of the world as a whole. He had never questioned it, not even once. His father had been one of the primary scientists who developed the operation in the first place, so he had always known its importance. When he started taking the dosages that prevented sexual urges, he had not argued, for he knew sex could led to love, the ultimate pain to the individual and to society.

His father’s doctrine had become his own, and he was proud to be following in his footsteps. His double major of biology and political science at the local university would insure that he helped further develop any kinks or flaws in the drug, and he would be primed to take his father’s place on Camelot’s Board of Regents by the time he was married at age twenty-five.

Arthur’s life was completely on-track, his name respectable, his future golden, and his mind unsullied by any temptation of love.

* * *

 

“But doesn’t the operation prevent free will? Isn’t choice a much more human ideal than societal stability?”

“Societal stability is all that keeps us going,” Arthur couldn’t help but snarl as he glared at the other boy from across the lecture hall. His upper-level biology class would have been one of the most enjoyable he had taken in his university career thus far, but the skinny bloke in the front row kept posing ethical questions that were of no relevance to the material at hand, and Gaius just let him _talk._ It was bloody frustrating.

“No, societal _progress_ is what keeps us going.” The boy burned a hole in Arthur’s head with his glare. “That’s the definition of progress, actually. The prevention of love in society is an outrage – society is not more important than the individual.”

“Of course it is!” Arthur snapped back. “And – assuming for the sake of argument that a single human being is more important than the world as a whole – is the prevention of love not the prevention of pain? Loss? Heartache? Suffering?”

“If love is those things, then it is not in equal amounts joy, happiness, peace, pleasure, exultation? There is no happiness without suffering. Who made the choice that society as a whole does not get to choose whether we feel? Oh, wait. That was your father.”

“My father developed the operation, along with the drug that helps resist sexual impulses, but he most assuredly did not do so not alone. And though he lobbied for its legislation, he certainly did not make the decision by himself,” Arthur said stiffly. “The people of society –”

“The legislators of society –” The boy interjected.

“The _people_ of society,” Arthur continued sharply, “made the decision of their own _free will_ , which, as evidenced by your previous words, is your primary concern.”

“ _We_ didn’t make that choice,” the boy said, his face darker than before, “the generation before us did. And we have to live with their consequences.”

“And is that not precisely how government works?” Arthur shot back. “Every generation inherits both the problems and solutions of the generation before them. It just so happens that the operation is a solution.”

“And how exactly do you defend –”

“I think that’s enough for today, boys,” Professor Gaius finally cut them off, and Arthur could see the students around them sink down and sigh in relief, no longer witness to the intense volleyball match between himself and the other boy. “Both of you make excellent points, but this is biology class, not debate. I suggest you bring this to Professor Monmouth’s department if you wish to continue this further. Now – onto real, concrete _science_. I think you will find as you continue down this academic path that science itself has no emotions. I believe you two require a reminder of that. See me after class.”

Arthur felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach; he didn’t _get_ into trouble. But the boy had pushed all of his buttons; he had been angry and defensive, and he shouldn’t have let his emotions take control of him like that.

He comforted himself with the fact that his operation was eight months away, and soon it would be very difficult to catch him in such a weakened position.

It was the other boy’s fault, anyway. Arthur glanced across the room to see him lounging, unaffected in his seat in the front row, his long limbs stretched comfortably over his seat, tapping a pen against his desk instead of taking notes.

Which reminded Arthur that he should be taking notes. He had no desire to further upset Gaius.

Once they had finished their lecture about DNA sequencing, Arthur begrudgingly slung his bag over his shoulder and headed to Gaius’s desk with trepidation. He didn’t know if the old man would just lecture them, or if there would be an actual punishment involved. The other boy had started it; surely Gaius knew that.

“Well, you two are quite the pair,” Gaius said as the rest of the students filed out of the classroom, the boy standing opposite Arthur, looking altogether unbothered by Gaius’s words. “I can honestly say I’ve rarely seen two students so impassioned about their viewpoint.”

“Thank you,” the other boy said a bit arrogantly, but Arthur’s stomach churned unpleasantly. Passion, much like love, was wrong, even if said passion was for the rejection of love.

“I’m very sorry, sir,” Arthur punctuated each syllable as he threw the other boy a dirty look. “It won’t happen again.”

Gaius regarded the pair of them critically with a single raised eyebrow. Finally, he opened the left hand drawer of his desk and pulled out a crisp twenty pound note. “I’d like the two of you to go get a coffee together.”

“What –” Arthur began hotly, and the other boy snorted in derision. Gaius cut Arthur off.

“The two of you need to work out your differences away from my classroom. I’ll not have the other students’ studies interrupted with your fundamental differences again. You will work out your anger toward one another – whether that means continuing this debate elsewhere, or working out an agreement on when you should keep your overlarge mouths shut, I don’t care. But this will not reach my classroom again. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Arthur replied dutifully, while the other boy merely nodded. “Will you be forcing us to get coffee, or will you take our word for it that we will no longer be disrespectful here again?”

“You’re saying no to a free coffee?” The other boy raised an eyebrow and chuckled at him. Offense boiled in Arthur’s stomach as the boy reached over and plucked the note out of Gaius’s reach. “I suppose Daddy has a nice little trust fund for you. Thanks, Gaius. I’m quite terrible at keeping my opinions to myself, but I’ll do my best for you. Coming, Pendragon?”

The boy leisurely headed out of the room without a second glance. Arthur looked once at Gaius, who only looked amused, and then again at the boy headed out the door.

“I don’t have a trust fund!” Arthur called as he stalked forward to catch up to him.

* * *

 

The two of them didn’t speak until their coffee orders had come through, and Arthur sipped his latte as he begrudgingly took a seat across from the other boy, who had a Frappuccino so extravagant that Arthur was sure it would result in health problems later in life.

“What?” The boy asked with a laugh when Arthur gave his coffee a judgmental look. “I hardly ever have twenty pounds to spend on coffee. Might as well go all out. We can’t all be as rich as you, Pendragon.”

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” Arthur snapped. “You apparently know me.”

“Everyone knows you,” the boy said with a roll of his eyes. “I’m Merlin. Merlin Emrys. Fellow biology major, though my double is linguistics.”

“Odd combination,” Arthur said, allowing the small talk for now, glad he finally had a name to put to the face. An annoying name for an annoying face.

“Not really – I consider linguistics to be the real meld of science and literature,” Merlin said, taking a long sip from his drink before making a face, most likely at the obscene amount of sugar in it. Arthur felt a vindictive bit of pleasure at his misfortune, but quickly returned to the conversation.

“Figures you’d be a fan of literature,” he snorted. “Nothing eggs on revolutionists more than literature.”

“Who said I was a revolutionist?” Merlin smiled at Arthur, his voice inviting a challenge.

“Please,” Arthur said. “Free will is the oldest and most tired excuse of revolutionists for their desire to bring down the social structure.”

“That’s because the removal of free will continues to be a problem,” Merlin’s eyes sparkled a bit with the rise to his challenge, and Arthur almost smiled before he caught himself and schooled his expression into a severe frown. “People keep trying to take it away.”

“Maybe its best that we don’t have it – maybe we’re better off without it,” Arthur volleyed back. “I doubt you’ve ever considered that.”

“Not for one moment of my life,” Merlin replied cheerfully. “There’s nothing more important than our choices, Arthur. You should remember that.”

“Choice is overrated,” Arthur said. “I’ll do my part to contribute to society; keep it in stasis and, when I can, create progress. Only I’ll create the right kind of progress that will make the world a better place.”

Merlin’s smile turned into a sigh as he shook his head at Arthur in an almost pitying way. “Well, Pendragon, I respect your passion. It’s a shame that it will leave you so soon.”

“The operation will just make emotion easier to reign in,” Arthur corrected him. “It won’t remove it entirely.”

“You should stop reading textbooks and start looking at the people around you,” Merlin told him. “Because I think you’ll find that the truth is rather the opposite.”

“And what makes you believe that?”

“It’s the truth,” Merlin said simply. “Look around– this building is on a college campus, so most of the people here haven’t experienced the operation. But you can tell which ones have. Just look – tell me who’s past their twenty-first birthday.”

Arthur glanced around the café for only a few moments before pointing out a group of students in the back corner, less rowdy and talkative than the rest of the busy shop. “Those four.”

“Right, and how can you tell?”

Arthur gave Merlin a look; he didn’t _want_ to play this little game, but…well, maybe he did. “They’re quiet. Serious expressions. They don’t participate in the noise and rambunctiousness of the younger students.”

“They’ve lost the will to participate,” Merlin said. “The will to be passionate. The will to have a personality. _Free_ will is what I would call it.”

“They can control their emotions; they are no longer children,” Arthur said, more coldly than before.

“What a world it would be if its oldest citizen still had the ability to marvel like a child,” Merlin said with a sad little shake of his head, and Arthur frowned. Something in that idea made sense; children, of course, were uncontrollable and disruptive, but there was a certain quality of innocence and curiosity to them. For an old man to be able to still have that innocence –

Arthur’s mind closed up immediately to the idea. That idea was against protocol.

“I don’t expect someone as childlike as you to understand what it means to take responsibility for yourself, to take on your duty to society,” Arthur admonished.

“And I don’t expect someone who’s been brainwashed since their childhood to understand what it means to think for yourself,” Merlin volleyed back with a tight grin.

“Brainwashed?” Arthur raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Just because my father is the creator and staunchest supporter of the operation –”

“A man who can’t love you, who _chose_ not to love you, who tyrannically oppressed an entire country just so he wouldn’t _have_ to love you –”

“Shut up,” Arthur cut him off harshly, the words stinging more than he would ever show. “He created that operation because of my mother’s death, so that no one would ever have to feel the pain of loss again. He’s done more for this society than anyone alive. And no, he doesn’t love me – because love is wrong. I deserve much, much better than his love. I deserve his respect. And someday, when I take his place, I will earn it.”

“One believes things because they are conditioned to believe them,” Merlin finally spoke after a few moments of heated silence. His expression was unreadable. He sounded like he was quoting from some textbook, though Arthur knew that no text would ever ascertain such a claim. “I’m sorry, Arthur. I really am. I think you could have been a great man, a great leader – but your father took that future away from you. Just as he took everyone’s futures away. You say he did it to stop pain? I think that is very selfish. He should have dealt with that pain, and done it through fierce and unapologetic love for you.”

“I thought you believed in free will,” Arthur’s emotions seemed to have drained out of him with his last outburst. Thankfully, the café was loud and busy enough that no one would have caught it unless they’d been listening. “My father made his choice.”

“And prevented me from making mine,” Merlin finished, before his face twisted up into a smile. “Well. Not quite. I’ll see you later, Arthur. Feel free to finish my Frappuccino. You were right – it’s disgusting.”

 He left Arthur sitting alone in the bustling café, wondering what he could have meant by ‘not quite’.

* * *

 

Arthur couldn’t stop thinking about Merlin. He had never met a man quite like him before; he was quirky and off-kilter and clearly delusional, but Arthur couldn’t deny that he was intriguing. He had seen Merlin from across the room in their mutual biology class, but true to their word, they hadn’t argued. Merlin generally nodded at him if they passed one another, but otherwise gave no indication of their conversation.

It was driving Arthur a bit mad.

“Arthur, I can’t help but notice you’ve been rather restless these past few days,” Uther said at dinner one Sunday night the week after Arthur’s meeting with Merlin. “I hope that nothing in your studies is awry.”

“No, Father,” Arthur replied, knowing better than to mention Merlin.

“Good,” Uther nodded in not-quite-approval. “Next year, I want you to spend your fall semester interning at Pendragon Laboratories and spring semester in the Regents Hall. Since your operation is in May, you’ll be fully equipped to learn the layout of both so that you will be prepared to run the lab and be a Regent by the time I am gone.”

“Of course, Father,” Arthur replied humbly. Last week he would have been pleased with this, even happy, but today, all he felt was confusion and vague dissatisfaction. “Whatever you say.”

* * *

 

“What exactly did you do to me?”

“I’m…sorry?” Merlin was visibly confused when Arthur chose to march up to him as the other boy headed down the library steps. Arthur had been scouring the campus for the last hour for him, and wasn’t overly pleased.

“What did you do?” Arthur reiterated, growling. “Drug me? Bewitch me?”

“No,” Merlin said slowly, looking at Arthur like he was daft in the head, which was just adding insult to injury. “First of all, I don’t think I have the power to ‘bewtich you’. And secondly, even if I had drugged you, it’s been nearly two weeks since we talked. Would have worn off by now. Now why exactly do you think I’ve poisoned and or enchanted you?”

“I’m – not – pleased,” Arthur struggled to explain, “with my life right now. And the only thing I can think of that’s changed is _you_.”

“Oh,” Merlin said, realization dawning on his face. “ _Oh_. You mean – what you mean to say is – that I’ve broken through Uther Pendragon’s twenty years of conditioning to make an impact after a twenty minute conversation?”

“I’m not malleable and I’m not weak,” Arthur snarled at him, sensing the laughter, but also an inexplicable wonder in Merlin’s voice.

“No, of course you’re not – you’re sensible!” Merlin looked ridiculously pleased. “The reason you rush to defend your father’s policies because you’re insecure about them!”

“I’m –”

“Arthur, relax,” Merlin said, his face the epitome of relaxation. His smile was real and even understanding. “Look, I know you don’t want to accept any other reality than your father’s. But you’re so passionate and strong and – just – I’m having a party on Friday night. You should come. Here, I’ll give you my address.”

“You don’t live with your parents?” Arthur was narrowed his eyes. Parties weren’t exactly frowned upon by society, but they were hardly the type of thing that Uther Pendragon’s son should attend, and certainly not when the host was an anti-operation revolutionist like Merlin, who had still probably slipped Arthur something. But the enthusiasm and warmth on his face was so genuine – no one had ever really wanted to _talk_ to Arthur, to be around him just for the sake of it.

“My father died before I was born, and my mother died last year,” Merlin explained as he scribbled down an address on a loose piece of paper before handing it to Arthur. “I have monthly checks come in to support me until my twenty-first, so I rent a flat. Come around seven or so.”

“How do I know this isn’t a trick or a trap?” Arthur asked, still suspicious of Merlin’s motivations.

“Don’t be so arrogant – you’re hardly important enough to trap,” Merlin smiled a bit arrogantly himself, as if he knew just how clever he was.

“Not important enough _yet_ ,” Arthur corrected him, and Merlin’s smile faltered.

“Yeah,” he nodded, averting his gaze from Arthur’s just enough to be noticeable. “Yet.”

* * *

 

Arthur went to the party with a decent amount of trepidation. First of all, he had lied to his father for maybe the third time in his life, telling him that he had a study session for his physiology class. Secondly, he had never been to another student’s flat before; almost everyone at Arthur’s age still lived with their parents, and would until they received the operation at twenty-one and became true adults. And, thirdly and most importantly, Arthur still wasn’t sure how trustworthy Merlin was.

Just because someone had a nice smile didn’t mean they weren’t an unwashed revolutionist who wanted to fracture Arthur’s entire system of belief.

Arthur apprehensively knocked on a door he hoped was the right one; Merlin had extremely messy handwriting. He could hear noises from inside, so he was relatively certain he was in the right place, but he couldn’t be sure.

The door opened and Arthur’s doubts were assuaged; Merlin was there, smiling at him – beaming, in fact. Arthur could hear music playing inside, and could see a good number of people dancing, talking, eating – it seemed normal enough. Definitely not a meeting of revolutionists.

“Hey,” Arthur said unsurely, eyes flickering from Merlin to the inside of his flat.

“Hey, Arthur, thanks for coming,” Merlin said, biting his lip as his eyes sparkled down at Arthur. Never had Arthur seen someone so apparently happy to see him.

“Only polite,” Arthur said, trying his best to distance himself should this entire experience head in a southward direction. Merlin seemed to realize this, and with a slight roll of his eyes, jerked his head to motion backward.

“Come on in,” Merlin said. “Promise no one here will bite. Except maybe Gwaine!”

“Oi, that’s slander!” Another boy with a long mane of brown hair and more of a beard than he had no right to have at age twenty came bounding across the room toward the pair of them. The rest of the guests had turned slightly when Arthur came in, and there had been a couple of hushed whispers, but other than that, he was being ignored. It was kind of nice, being unobtrusive, especially in a room where he felt so out of place.

“I thought for sure you had to be taking the mickey when you said Arthur Pendragon might come tonight, but goddamn,” Gwaine wolf-whistled as he gave Arthur an uncomfortable once-over. “You weren’t lying. Daddy let you out for the evening, Princess?”

“Shove off, Gwaine,” Merlin said, not without affection. Arthur gave Gwaine a tight-lipped smile; he was plenty offended, but was taught to be polite in all kinds of company. A politician needed skills like that; if nothing, this experience would be good practice for dealing with disagreeable persons. Merlin turned to Arthur to explain “Gwaine attends the university, though you wouldn’t know it by his attendance record.”

“I have more important things to do than something as simple as _class_ ,” Gwaine dismissed offhandedly. “Merlin, where are the drinks?”

“In the kitchen, where they always are,” Merlin waved a vague and impatient hand backward. “Go, get rip-roaringly drunk. Have a fun hangover tomorrow.”

“I always do!” Gwaine waggled his fingers at Arthur before waltzing off toward the kitchenette.

“He’s…interesting,” Arthur said after his retreating form.

“One way to put it,” Merlin said with a slight chuckle. “He means well, really.”

“Who’s your friend, Merlin?” A voice asked from behind them, and Arthur turned with trepidation to face a boy and girl, the boy lanky and long-faced and the girl lithe and blonde.

“This is Arthur,” Merlin introduced him, and Arthur moved to shake both of their hands. They both looked a bit bemused at the formality, and Arthur regretted it immediately. But he’d never been to a party before; he didn’t know the protocol. “Arthur, this is Tristan and Isolde. Tristan’s a business major and Isolde studies finance.”

“Nice to meet you,” Arthur forced a smile, but at least the pair of them weren’t as forward as Gwaine.

“Never thought I’d see a Pendragon here, in the unholiest of all unholy places,” Isolde said, clearly addressing Merlin with light teasing.

“Never thought I’d see Emrys actually make a friend,” Tristan quipped back, and Arthur laughed. Both of the strangers gave him approving looks at the sound, while Merlin just rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

“Merlin, do you mind if we, ah – use your bathroom?” Tristan said with a raise of his eyebrow and, Arthur was disturbed to see, a hand snaking toward Isolde’s. The only time Arthur had seen two people hold hands was young children and their parents crossing the street or in a large crowd, never two adults.

“As long as you clean up after yourselves,” Merlin said mildly, undisturbed. Arthur threw a glance at him, but his expression was unreadable as Isolde and Tristan moved together across the room.

“Um,” Arthur began, a bit awkwardly. “Are they – I mean, will they – are they about to –”

“Have sex in my bathroom?” Merlin said wryly. “Yeah, I expect so. It’s what I get for hosting a party, but oh well. It’s better than having Gwaine bring a conquest in there. He’s rarely as considerate as they are.”

“But – but don’t they take the anti-sex urge drug?” Arthur asked, shaking his head in confusion.

“Of course they do – you don’t really have a choice in the matter what with the weekly tests to make sure it’s still in your system,” Merlin said. “But the drug doesn’t stop someone from enjoying sex – it discourages your body from it, but once you get going, it’s still a good time.”

“You’ve –”

“Don’t get all high and mighty on me,” Merlin said with a shake of his head. “Come on, Arthur. If you’re listening to me about the operation, then surely you’ll at least take what you’ve heard about the anti-sex urge drug with a grain of salt.”

But _was_ Arthur listening to him about the operation? Merlin was surely taking a lot on belief here. Arthur could easily report the behavior here to his father, and it would easily get all in attendance scheduled for early operations. Why was Merlin so trusting of Arthur?

For that matter, why was Arthur so trusting of Merlin?

“If that’s true, what stops so many people from _having_ sex?” Arthur asked, for clarification’s sake if nothing else.

Merlin shrugged. “A lot of them believe, as you do, that the drug stops them from ever experiencing enjoyable sex. Once you have the operation and are forced into a loveless marriage, sex is used for procreation and nothing else. Sex, contrary to popular belief, is in a lot of ways an emotional experience, and once your emotions are gone…well, you won’t have as much enjoyment. Even if you aren’t in love with a person, sex is still a meeting between two people. There’s feeling in that.”

“Are Tristan and Isolde…?” Arthur struggled to finish the sentence.

Merlin shrugged. “Sometimes. They’ll have the operation and it’ll be gone, but they feel for each other. It might be love. I don’t know. I’ve never asked.”

“I’ve never seen anything like that before,” Arthur said quietly after a moment. “I guess I’ve never seen a lot of things before.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Merlin said after a moment of regarding Arthur with curiosity. “I want to talk to you without all of these people – music – whatever. Should have just invited you over later this weekend, but I kind of wanted you to see this. But will you walk outside with me?”

“I – yeah. Yes, please,” Arthur said, uncomfortable with the party setting. He hadn’t come here for a party; he’d come here to see Merlin and try to figure out exactly what was happening between them and why it was making Arthur reevaluate his life. “I’m not – parties really aren’t for me.”

“Never been to one before?” Merlin said with a teasing yet rueful grin and Arthur regretfully shook his head.

“C’mon, let’s go – surely someone else will step up and stop Gwaine if he tries to burn the place down,” Merlin led Arthur out the door and into the hallway, blessedly shutting the door behind them. The noise was muted now as they made their way down the hall and out into the late evening moonlight. It was nearly nine o’clock; Arthur had told his father he’d be home by eleven.

“Do you live with just your father?” Merlin asked Arthur as they headed down the sidewalk without discussion of a destination.

Arthur nodded. “There are some maids and butlers. I had a nanny when I was younger. But my father’s the only other person who lives there.”

 “Wow, butlers?” Merlin laughed jokingly. “I thought those were myths.”

“Ha,” Arthur said dryly. “What about you? You said your mother died last year. May I…May I ask how?”

“Car accident,” Merlin said mildly. “Nothing out of the ordinary. She was a decent sort. Couldn’t….couldn’t love me, of course, but she told me once that she hadn’t wanted to get the operation done. That she’d loved me when I was a baby, and loved my father when he was alive. I think she would have been a good mother. If given the chance.”

Arthur felt a guilt rise up in him; it was his birth and his mother’s subsequent death that had led to the operation being developed. He knew that many people had risen up against it, but were forced down by the Board of Regents, and many more still disagreed with it but hadn’t wanted to refute the government’s word.

He shook himself out of the guilty feeling; he had nothing to feel ashamed for. The operation did more good than harm. It _could_ cause harm, as Merlin had made clear to him, but that wasn’t the only thing it did. The pros outweighed the cons. Arthur sighed in relief as his world shifted into alignment again.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly after a moment, “about her death.”

“Me, too,” Merlin said with a wry, sad sort of smile.

They walked in silence for a moment before Arthur asked Merlin “so what do you want to do once you graduate? Biology and linguistics is quite a combination.”

“I…don’t know,” Merlin said, and Arthur felt like there was something he was hiding. “I love words. I’ve always loved words. But in today’s day and age, wordsmithing is hardly something respectable or encouraged. It would make the most sense for me to work for someone like your father at Pendragon Laboratories.”

Arthur snorted. “You wouldn’t last a day. The second he said anything you disagreed with, you’d have to fight back. You couldn’t help yourself.”

“Looks like someone thinks they’ve got a read on me,” Merlin said with an open-mouthed laugh that made Arthur smile. “Though you’re probably right – I never knew I was that transparent.”

“You’re not transparent at all,” Arthur said before he could help himself and Merlin gazed at him curiously.

“What do you mean?”

Arthur shrugged. “I just – can’t get a read on you. I don’t think you drugged me – not anymore. But…I’d never thought about any of these things until you said them. Why?”

Merlin regarded him with a look that Arthur couldn’t read. He seemed to come to a decision, however, for his face changed a moment later. “Can I tell you a story, Arthur?”

“Sure,” he replied, not quite certain where this was going.

“When I was fourteen, I fell in love with a girl named Freya Waters,” Merlin said, simply and matter-of-factly, as if love was not forbidden or treacherous, as if it were something that happened every day. A tightness seized Arthur’s chest, but he had the distinct feeling it was for a reason beyond shock at the admission.

“Okay,” Arthur managed to get out with a nod for Merlin to continue.

“She was very sweet, and shy, and beautiful – and that was before taking the anti-sex drugs are required, so. You know. Hormones,” Merlin said with a self-deprecating roll of his eye. Though Arthur understood in principle, he didn’t in practice. His father had forced him to start taking the drugs when he was twelve, even though the required age was fifteen.

“What happened?” Arthur asked, curious.

“She died,” Merlin said with a sad grimace, and Arthur blinked up at him in shock.

“At – fourteen?”

“Fifteen,” Merlin said as he gazed at the ground. “She had leukemia.”

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said, and meant it. Even if love was terrible, death was worse. And Merlin hadn’t had the operation to fall back on in his time of loss – he just had to bear it.

“That was when I started doing all the research I could – discovering things like philosophy and literature and yes, free will – because I didn’t want to forget about her. I wanted to remember that I loved her and she loved me, even if only for a short time when we were very young. Because that’s really the only chance we have at love in this kind of world. So we have to make it count.”

Arthur nodded, processing and wondering how much that must have hurt.

“There’s also some hatred for your father in there, too,” Merlin said almost apologetically. “Did you know that before he developed the operation, his main goal was helping cancer patients? For all the faults I find with your father, he’s a smart man, and I can’t help but think that maybe if he put his mind to cancer instead of blocking love then Freya wouldn’t have died.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Arthur said quietly. “What good is this doing? How does this pertain to me?”

“I told you this so that you’d know the other side of the world, Arthur,” Merlin said, stopping walking for the first time to look Arthur dead in the eye. “So that you know the harm that your father has caused for so many people. Because – well – you’re rather brilliant, you know that? You’re smart, and passionate, and have a drive and ambition that I don’t think any man could match. And like I said before, I don’t want you to lose that to the operation. Because once you go under that needle, all of that goes away. You become a drone for society. Sure, you’ll still be smart, you’ll still be capable, but you won’t _care_ about what you’re doing. I want you to care, Arthur. I just thought that after so many years of just your father for influence, I’d do my best to balance it out. So you can make an informed decision.”

“What decision?” Arthur finally asked, remembering Merlin’s former words on the subject. “I thought according to you, free will was gone. That there was no such thing as choice in this world.”

“There’s always a choice,” Merlin said, breaking eye contact. “Even if it’s just in your own head.”

“Isn’t it better to live in ignorance? To not know what you’re missing?” Arthur asked him, knowing what Merlin would say, but Arthur wanted to know how he would say it.

“I don’t want comfort,” Merlin told him with a wry grin that Arthur had already become accustomed to with only a few short meetings. “I want poetry and danger and freedom. Some people will choose comfort and ignorance. And they _can_ choose that, because they have free will. A miniscule amount, but it’s still there. And with my free will, would choose love and loss a thousand times over the removal of all feeling.”

Arthur thought of his father, so destroyed by the loss of his mother that he destroyed love for the entire world, compared to Merlin, who had lost the girl he loved, and his conviction _for_ love and danger and free will only became stronger.

Arthur knew that if it was a choice, he needed to choose his father.

But he’d been choosing his father all his life.

He looked hesitantly over at Merlin and said “I don’t know what I’d choose.”

Merlin smiled back, more shy than wry. “You want to come back to my place on Sunday? I want to show you something.”

“Okay.”

* * *

 

This time, Arthur told his father he was going to the gym, lying for the second time in as many days. He almost managed to forget about that when Merlin opened the door and just looked so _pleased_ to see him.

“How’s your weekend going?” Arthur asked, unsure exactly of where they stood. He was pretty sure they were friends, but it was hard to tell seeing as how Arthur had never had a friend before. Merlin made a face in response to his question.

“Gaius’s paper on genetic variation is hell. I can’t churn out fifteen fucking pages in two days.”

“He…gave us two weeks,” Arthur reminded him. Merlin just laughed.

“Oh, it figures you’d be the perfect student, too. Well, Arthur, welcome to my world of procrastination and unhealthy study habits.”

“Figures you’d be a poor student,” Arthur made a face back at him, kind of missing their sharp jabs at one another.

“I get very respectable grades, I’ll have you know,” Merlin said as he ushered Arthur out of the doorway and into the flat. It was still messy from Friday’s party, but blessedly empty sans the two of them. “I’m just shit at putting in, you know. Time and energy.”

Arthur shook his head with a laugh. “You’re awful. Wouldn’t you rather put in the work? Actually learn something?”

Merlin beamed. “I’d rather be myself. Myself and nasty.”

Arthur snorted. “You’re a strange one, Merlin, that’s for certain. Originally I thought it was just your political defects, but it’s oh so much more.”

“Good to see you’ve got your barbed wire sense of humor back,” Merlin raised an eyebrow at him. “I was worried I removed it entirely on Friday.”

Arthur shrugged. “What can I say? Today’s a new day, and I’ve spent twenty years being…well. In your words, ‘myself and nasty’.”

Merlin laughed and it was a wonderful sound.

“I only have a few hours – my father thinks I’m at the gym,” Arthur explained as he sat down on Merlin’s worn sofa when Merlin gestured toward it. “How’d the, uh, rest of your party go?”

Merlin shrugged as he sprawled out on the other side of the couch. “Tristan and Isolde cleaned up after themselves. Gwaine passed out from drunkenness and I felt obligated to make him eggs the next morning. Not the worst party I’ve ever had – mainly because I didn’t have to witness most of it.”

“Why’d you even have the party?”

Again, Merlin shrugged. “The thing with my friends is that we’re all fuck-the-system sort of people, and parties are a way to say no to social norms without actually having viable consequences. Plus for a lot of people, it’s a convenient place to have sex.”

Arthur winced slightly at the casual reference to the act that he was taught was so dirty without the combination of the operation, marriage, and lack of emotion. Merlin clearly took notice, but didn’t address it, instead switching topics.

“Have you ever read a book before? Not a textbook, but a book of fiction. Literature.”

Arthur frowned, considering; literature, especially anything that was authored more than a hundred years ago, was considered outdated and obsolete. Once the laws went into place regarding the operation, this idea had only progressed, as the books published would show loving relationships in marriage, family, and friendship, which were also outdated and obsolete.

Still, despite this, Uther Pendragon had a library in his house that he had kept locked up tight. And once, as a boy, Arthur had snuck inside.

“The beginning of a book called A Clockwork Orange,” Arthur said slowly, the memory coming back to him as if through a thin layer of film, “before my father caught me and – well.”

Merlin nodded, not needing further clarification, and Arthur was glad. He didn’t want to explain it. “I’ve never read it,” Merlin said lightly. “What was it about?”

Arthur shrugged. “I don’t really remember. I was only nine or ten, and I only got a few pages in, I think. Why…why do you ask?”

Merlin was quiet for a moment. “I don’t think you’ll be surprised when I tell you that I am a lover and pursuer of literature. Illegally, of course.”

“Of course,” Arthur echoed wryly, only slightly bothered by the admission. It was Merlin; Merlin seemed, at least to Arthur, above such simple things as laws.

“And I’ve read a fair few books – not as many as I’d like to, of course – but a fair few. And I have a favorite that I would like – I would be honored – if you would read it.”

“If _I_ would –” Arthur’s heart jolted in shock. It was one thing for Merlin to be breaking the law. It was another thing for Arthur to _know_ that Merlin was breaking the law. And it was another thing entirely for _Arthur_ to be the one breaking the law.

“I understand that we’ve only met a couple times, and you probably don’t trust me entirely,” Merlin said with a slight wince as he leaned forward, closer to Arthur. “But this book – it’s incredible. It made me look at the world in a brand new way, and I wouldn’t be the person I am today without it.”

“Wouldn’t that make it political propaganda?” Arthur tried to defend himself, but there was a part of them that already knew that it wouldn’t be long before he had finished the book himself.

“If you want to look at it that way, it is,” Merlin admitted without a blink. “It’s a satirical look at the future as seen in the early twentieth century. It’s not exactly like ours, but its close enough to hit home. And I think you’ll understand me and the views I hold better if you read it. That’s why you’re here, right? To try to understand the world you live in outside your father’s parameters.”

This was true, Arthur reflected, but he had also come because of Merlin himself. There was some kind of bond between them, and it should have been enough to make Arthur run far, far away. Instead, he asked “Where did you even find this book?”

“My mother had a few novels that she kept hidden away. She never read them after the operation, but she never gave them up either. I found them and took them – this book was one of them. I’ve gotten a few since, from friends or through other means. But this one has always been the most important.”

“I’ll read it,” Arthur said immediately, though in his mind he was still hesitant. It was worth it for the look on Merlin’s face; he reached for the coffee table in front of them and opened a drawer before handing Arthur a battered yellow book, the likes of which Arthur had never seen before.

On the front, in peeling red letters, it read _Brave New Word._

“You probably shouldn’t take that home,” Merlin said quietly as his fingers fell away from the book, leaving it entirely in Arthur’s hands. It wasn’t physically heavy, but Arthur felt the weight of it in his chest. “If you want to read it right now, I’ll answer any questions you have about it.”

“You’re just going to watch me read?” Arthur raised an eyebrow.

Merlin shrugged. “I’ll try to work on my fifteen pages of genetic variation. But if I get overwhelmingly bored by it, as I’m apt to do, I’ll watch you read.”

* * *

 

“We don’t clone people,” was Arthur’s first comment only a minute or so after he started reading. He was one side of Merlin’s couch, Merlin on the other, their feet almost, but not quite, meeting in the middle. Merlin looked up and blinked a couple times.

“I told you it wasn’t an exact match. The first couple chapters are a bit dry and parallels are harder to draw, but just give Huxley some time.”

A few moments later – “We don’t condition children.”

“You don’t whisper into their ears at night, but every society has social conditioning. You were conditioned to believe a certain way.”

“What you said yesterday – ‘we believe things because we are conditioned to do so’ – is that a quote from this?”

“Honestly, most of the things I say are quotes of this. Keep reading, Arthur.”

“ _Why_ are the children having sex? Our society is nothing like this, Merlin!” Arthur finally put down the book at the beginning of chapter three, his confusion of Merlin’s purpose in doing this only growing. “Sex is scandalous, and can only be performed after the operation and in marriage! It _leads_ to love!”

“Arthur,” Merlin leaned forward with an understanding sort of smile that made Arthur feel like he was getting treated like a child even though it wasn’t Merlin’s intention. He glared, but Merlin kept talking. “They’re _conditioned_ into viewing sex in that way, just like you and I were conditioned to believe it’s dirty and wrong and only for procreation. Once you keep reading, you’ll see that they use sex to _prevent_ love.”

Arthur kept glaring, but relented slightly when he realized he didn’t know something. “You – you’ve had sex, I assume.”

“I have,” Merlin said, a bit carefully though not ashamedly. “Like I said before, the drug doesn’t stop it from feeling good.”

“Did you ever have sex without the drug?” Arthur knew it was far too personal a question, but he had to ask; there was no one else he _could_ ask about something like this.

Merlin took Arthur’s question in stride, just nodding. “With Freya, yes. We were both young and inexperienced, but we were also drug-free and in love, which easily made it better than any sex I had later.”

“Later?”

“Elena – she was here last night – she wanted to try it and trusted me not to hurt her,” Merlin said with a small smile. “And Gwaine, whom I suspect has some kind of resistance to the drug, because he doesn’t just enjoy sex; he pursues it without fail.”

“Wait – Gwaine? But he’s – I mean – he’s –” Arthur spluttered a bit, trying to think of any time he’d heard of two men – or two women, for that matter – being together in that way. He’d heard stories of the time before the operation and before the wars, but never actually heard of it happening anymore.

“I’m guessing Uther Pendragon doesn’t use his spare time to discussion homosexuality,” Merlin said dryly. “Or any other sexuality – up to and including heterosexuality. If you’re wondering, other than a few key differences, the sex feels about the same. It’s still fun. It still feels good. There’s an extra level of rebellion to it, which I think is what makes it so appealing to Gwaine.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever talked to someone who’s actually – done it before,” Arthur shook his head in shock. “Has everyone experimented with it and I’m just in the dark?”

“I don’t think so,” Merlin said, clearly trying to comfort Arthur in his own wry way. “My friends are a pretty distinct group of people, and I think many are just like you – well, maybe not _just_ like you. Your father is a rather unique individual to have as your only formative influence.”

“Yeah,” Arthur said, trying to clear his head through the confusion of this new revelation.

“You should keep reading,” Merlin said softly after a couple of seconds. “You haven’t even gotten to the good stuff yet.”

Arthur returned to the book, and didn’t speak again until he had almost finished with it. He wasn’t sure the time, the hour, didn’t think of his father or even of Merlin sitting across from him with his biology papers spread out over his lap – he was so enraptured and enthralled that he hadn’t taken a moment to consider it, devouring each page at top speed, desperate to see what happened next.

Arthur had never knew that a story had this much power.

Merlin had been right about the parallels – the disdain for love, the need for stability, the control and conditioning and rejection of truth and beauty and love –

Finally, close to the end, Arthur looked up at Merlin with wide eyes to find the other boy was watching him with the smallest of smiles.

“You –” Arthur breathed in amazement, finally understanding something. “You’re claiming the right to be unhappy.”

“The right to be old and ugly and impotent,” Merlin replied, biting his lip to keep from smiling too widely. “The right to have syphilis and cancer – the right to have too little to eat – to be lousy, to live in apprehension, catch typhoid, be tortured – I claim them all.”

 Arthur understood what free will was. Explained to him in these terms, he realized that he thought he had known, but had never truly understood its power.

He returned to the book, knowing Merlin was still watching him and not caring, and when he finished it, it felt like a great weight had been lifted from him, and another had been set down in its place. He felt like he knew and understood so much more just from that one book, and wondered what the world had been like when people could read a thousand books throughout their lifetimes. And yet John had died in the end; Arthur wasn’t sure what to do with that. Was there no answer but death? Could the story have a better ending?

“Thank you,” Arthur said as he set the book down gingerly, reverently on the table before them. “I never realized just – just how wonderful books were. It was like forgetting myself and – and learning so much more about myself. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“I’m glad,” Merlin said simply, eyes shining a bit as he regarded Arthur with the brightest of smiles. “Look, I know that somehow later you’ll probably justify this as political propaganda and manipulation of your beliefs, but I –”

“No,” Arthur shook his head. “It’s not that. I don’t know what it is, but it’s not that.”

The two of them looked at each other for a moment, and Arthur felt something pull at his insides.

“Shit, is that the time?” Arthur’s eyes diverted to the clock on the wall behind Merlin’s head as he jumped to his feet, panic boiling in his stomach. “Shit, I was supposed to be home nearly two hours ago. My father might still be at the laboratory but –”

“I’m sorry, I should have mentioned it,” Merlin said, standing as well and looking truly apologetic though he had nothing to be sorry for other than giving Arthur the book in the first place and, Arthur realized with a jolt, that act was far more important than Arthur getting a lecture from his father about personal responsibility.

“Wait, wait,” Arthur stopped short when he was nearly out the door, turning to Merlin with wide eyes, remembering a question he’d had but waited to address until he had finished with the novel. _Oh brave new world that has such people in it._ “You said you had other books. Do you have Shakespeare?”

Merlin’s face was split between joy and apology. “I don’t – I don’t. I’d do anything to read Shakespeare. I have – I have others, though. If you want to – I mean, you don’t have to – I mean –”

“I –” Arthur faltered. This was everything that he had spent his life shunning, judging, avoiding. He was on a _path_ – he would head Pendragon Laboratories and be on the Board of Regents. He would have his operation, get married and have children that he would raise to do the same.

But he had seven and a half months until his twenty-first birthday.

Shouldn’t he try to live a little before then? A tiny bit of rebellion surely couldn’t hurt too badly. Besides, he had already started – he could have an opinion different than his father, read a book, have a friend. Those weren’t crimes, per say. They were discouraged, certainly, but not crimes. And he would sacrifice all of that rebellion later, when he had the operation. None of this would matter after he had the operation.

And he _wanted_ to read another book. He _wanted_ to talk to Merlin. He _wanted –_

Poetry and danger and freedom.

Maybe even a little sin.

“I want to,” Arthur grinned nervously at Merlin, whose eyes grew round as saucers. “I really, really want to.”

* * *

 

Though Arthur’s father was uptight, strict, and disapproving of anything that wouldn’t further society, there was also another thing Uther Pendragon was.

_Busy._

Which made it all too easy to get to Merlin’s flat again later that week. His father was apt to not get home until eight or nine in the evening, and as long as Arthur made the maids and butlers, who liked him much more than the stodgy Uther, promise not to report his whereabouts, he could come and go as he pleased.

He had never really taken advantage of that before now. But then again, he had never had anything that even slightly resembled a _friend_ before now.

As odd as his bond with Merlin was, it meant something to Arthur, and even though it scared him half out of his mind, he _liked_ it. He liked Merlin’s smile, and his stupid looking ears, and his infectious laugh. It wasn’t – it wasn’t _love,_ that was certain – and Arthur was allowed to like someone. That was fine, as long as it never crossed a line.

A love from a child to a parent was the most excusable of loves, because children depend on their parents, parents being their whole world. They had not undergone the operation, and therefore their love, though frowned at, was allowed. A parent’s love for their child was next on the rung; the parent should not be capable of the feeling, but there was an undeniable connection that came with one’s offspring. Husbands and wives did not love each other, but they could feel something akin to care because it helped the family function as a unit.

Friendships were allowed – discouraged, but allowed – because there is a difference between liking a friend and loving a friend. Liking friends was entirely tolerable, though could prove a distraction. Loving a friend – well, that was nearly as powerful as the worst sin of all.

There was nothing excusable about falling in love with another person.

As long as Arthur never let the lines blur, he would be fine.

He repeated this in his mind a few times as he knocked on Merlin’s door that Thursday afternoon.

“It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen,” Merlin said in lieu of greeting when he opened the door. Arthur had seen him earlier today in biology and they had spoken briefly, both of them trying not to smile throughout the encounter. Most of the class probably thought they hated each other from their previous argument, and it would be nice to keep up that façade awhile longer.

“What are you on about?” Arthur chuckled as he set his bag down next to the door.

“How long can you stay?” Merlin didn’t answer the question as he headed into the kitchenette to grab two bags of chips, throwing one at Arthur, which he caught, bemused.

“I should try to be back my eight or so,” Arthur explained, opening the chips and smiling a bit at the gesture. “I can say I was at the library. Not technically a lie – I’m at your mini-library of illegal books.”

“Can you come back soon? You’re a quick reader, but you might not be able to finish every book in one sitting.”

“Yeah, sure,” Arthur said, having already committed to his new life of rule-breaking. “Is tomorrow alright? Or are you throwing another party?”

Merlin made a face before he dumped a handful of chips in his mouth. Crunching his way through them, he made a face and said “Much rather have _you_ here than people who make messes and drink my beer.”

“I can throw some pillows on the ground if you like, maybe knock over a vase,” Arthur suggested. “If it would make you feel more comfortable.”

“Shove off,” Merlin said, not without affection as he grabbed a book off the kitchen table. Worry seized Arthur’s stomach at seeing it just lying around – what if someone else came inside, his super or landlady? It was reckless not to think of those kinds of circumstances.

“What’s this one called?” Arthur asked as Merlin sat down at his side and showed him the cover – _1984._

“That’s over two hundred years ago,” Arthur stated the fact, wondering if this book factored into today’s world at all, and how it could with a title like that.

“It was written in 1950 – another prediction of how the world will go sour,” Merlin informed him with a light wince, both comical and serious. “Doesn’t ring quite as true as Brave New World, but as far as grim predictions go, its right up there.”

“Exciting,” Arthur said sarcastically, though he would be lying if he said he wasn’t intrigued. 

“I quoted the first line when you came in,” Merlin told him. “It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen. Winston Smith, his chin nuzzled into his breast to escape the vile wind –”

“Do you memorize all your books?” Arthur asked teasingly, and Merlin shrugged.

“Just about.”

“So are you going to let me read it, or are you just going to read it to me?”

Merlin’s eyes glimmered mischievously. “I can read it to you.” He opened the book to the first page and continued where he had left off, “…slipped quickly through the glass doors of Victory Mansions…” He glanced over at Arthur. “You gonna stop me?”

“No,” Arthur said, leaning back against the couch with a small smirk. If Merlin was going to be snarky, then Arthur was going to make him keep his word. “Keep going.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, but he was hiding a smile, and heeded Arthur’s request. “…though not quickly enough to prevent a swirl of gritty dust from entering along with him.”

Arthur quickly found that though he enjoyed hearing Merlin’s voice, he also wanted to see the words as they were said, and moved close enough to Merlin so that their legs were touching. Merlin looked at him out of the corner of his eye, but said nothing, only angled the book so that they could both see it.

“What do you think so far?” Merlin asked when the first chapter came to a close. It was more than a hundred pages in, and Merlin’s voice was scratchy from overuse. It had a nice timber to it, and hearing it so consistently was relaxing.

“Winston doesn’t remind me of you,” Arthur said before he could help himself. Merlin gave him a curious look.

“Were you expecting him to?”

“John did, in Brave New World,” Arthur admitted. “Every time he talked I thought of you.”

Arthur could see Merlin trying not to smile – but that reminded him of something bothersome about John the Savage.  

“Merlin,” Arthur said quietly. “Will you – promise me something?”

“Depends on what it is,” Merlin said, understandably confused but his tentative smile was genuine enough.

“Don’t –” Arthur swallowed hard before quickly and quietly muttering “– don’t hang yourself like he did.”

Merlin’s mouth fell open just slightly and his eyes looked brighter than before as he gazed at Arthur with something utterly unnamable. “Why would you think I’d hang myself?”

“You said – before, you said there was a choice other than the operation,” Arthur squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to have this conversation but feeling like it was necessary. “Please don’t make that your other option.”

“Arthur, look at me,” Merlin said, and when Arthur followed his request, he reached tentatively for Arthur’s hand, letting his fingers rest on top of it. “I won’t kill myself. I promise I won’t.”

Arthur hoped to God he was telling the truth. He cleared his throat as he stood up, moving away from Merlin, keeping his distance. “I should probably get home.”

* * *

 

That weekend Arthur had commitments to three different Regent meetings, and spent most of the next week shadowing a lab tech at the laboratory. He didn’t see Merlin again until class on Thursday, when Merlin muttered to him something about Gwaine convincing him to throw another party on Friday. Arthur had been somewhat desperately lonely that week; he was Merlin-less and Winston and Julia had just been captured by the Thought Police. While going to the party wouldn’t help is insatiable curiosity about the book, at least he could see his friend.

After a week around adults all of whom could not feel emotion, Arthur wanted to see Merlin smile.

Even if it meant dealing with a party.

“You got Penny-Penny-Pendragon to show up _again_? Damn, Merlin,” Gwaine whistled when he saw Arthur in the doorway.

“Ignore him!” A cheerful, wispy looking blonde laughed, and came forward to greet Arthur. “Hi, I’m Elena. I don’t think we had the chance to meet last time.”

Elena, Arthur’s stomach churned unpleasantly. Merlin had slept with her. Well, he’s also slept with Gwaine, but Gwaine was irritating enough that Arthur could dislike him regardless. He wondered why he felt like this; it was a new experience. He suddenly felt too hot.

“Nice to meet you,” Arthur said, purposefully not reaching out for a handshake this time. “I’m Arthur.”

Elena chatted pleasantly with him for a few minutes, Merlin interjecting occasionally, before she gave them a little wave and went to talk to a dark-haired girl in the kitchen. When she was gone, Merlin gave Arthur a look.

“If you didn’t want to come, you could have said ‘Merlin, fuck off, I don’t like parties and I’ll come over this weekend when your flat isn’t full of people.’ I promise you my feelings would not have been hurt.”

“I wanted to come,” Arthur said mildly, and Merlin raised an eyebrow that clearly stated ‘that’s bullshit’. “I did! I wanted to see you. My week was – different – without you.”

Merlin frowned slightly. “You’ve only been over here a few times, Arthur. It can’t have been that different.”

“But it was,” Arthur said with a helpless sort of shrug. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

He did, actually, and it sounded a hell of a lot like _I missed you_. But those weren’t words that had ever been a part of Arthur’s vocabulary. They implied an emotional connection that went well beyond simple liking.

Merlin, for his part, seemed to understand not to push, and soon his smile twisted mischievously. “Book’s in my room. Room has a lock. If you don’t mind a bit of background noise –” He made a motion with his head, and Arthur felt something very akin to affection.

“Won’t your friends get after you for not participating in your party two times in a row?”

“They’ll probably think we’re – ah –” Merlin scrunched up his face in an awkward yet somehow endearing way and made a gesture with one of his hands. Arthur stared at him for a moment before it dawned on him.

“Oh – right – that,” Arthur nodded seriously. “Um. That’s. As long as we’re not actually. Ah. Doing that.”

“Course not,” Merlin said emphatically, putting his hands up in a ‘don’t shoot’ motion. “Just the conclusion they’ll reach. If you’re okay with them thinking that…”

A few wannabe revolutionaries whose opinions hardly mattered thinking Arthur was having sex with another man was well worth finding out what happened in the next chapter of 1984, Arthur reasoned. His mind felt a bit hazy, but sort of pleasant, at the idea of –

“Yeah, that’s – fine,” Arthur tried to smile, and Merlin sighed as he headed away from the small crowd and into the hall, Arthur following. He pushed open the door on the right and ushered Arthur inside.

Arthur hadn’t seen Merlin’s room up until this point. It wasn’t like it would be an indication of personality; decorations were not sold in stores, as they were trinkets and distractions. There was a midnight blue comforter on a small twin bed, a wooden night stand with a small lamp, and a matching dresser. Atop the dresser was 1984 and Arthur smiled slightly at it as Merlin shut the door behind them.

“Thankfully, Gwaine’s in the bathroom with Elena so he can’t immediately make fun of me,” Merlin said with a small laugh as he walked past Arthur to pick the book up off the table.

“You’re – okay with that?” Arthur said, not knowing how to hedge the topic. “I mean, having been with both of them?”

Merlin pursed his lips and shrugged. “Yeah, sure. I mean, I’m not in love with either of them” – and here, Arthur’s chest felt unusually tight – “and even if I was, they’re not in love with each other. They’re rebelling against the system and having some fun along the way. No harm to me. Now do you want to keep talking about something as uncomfortable for you as my sex life, or do you want to know what happens next?”

“Well, I know it’s the end of Winston and Julia’s sex life,” Arthur said dryly, and Merlin chuckled.

They ended up leaning against the dresser, passing the book back and forth, nearly whispering some of the passages when they heard footsteps approaching in the hallway. This would inevitably make Merlin giggle, which would make Arthur giggle, and soon they were in fits of laughter, ironically juxtaposed with the intense torture scenes of the actual book.

It was only when Arthur read the line “Doublethink means the power of holding two contradictory beliefs in one's mind simultaneously, and accepting both of them” that he stopped short.

“That’s what I’m doing,” he said softly, lowering the book slightly. “Isn’t it?”

“Arthur,” Merlin replied, voice intent, but Arthur cut him off.

“No, it is,” he said, panic rising in his chest. “I come here and I believe these books, I believe in you, I believe that love isn’t evil, and then I go home to my father, or to class, or to the laboratory, and suddenly it’s like I was never here at all. Except for –”

“Except for what?”

“I – wish I was here,” Arthur confessed, not looking Merlin in the eye. “Instead of there.”

Merlin wordlessly put one hand on Arthur’s knee and used the other to take the book from his grasp to continue reading.

Nearly an hour later, the party had died down substantially, but Arthur could only tell by the lack of voices, as Merlin whispered the final words of the book, “He had won the victory over himself. He loved Big Brother.”

“Depressing,” Arthur said mildly with his mind was full of fractured turmoil. Would he one day win the victory over himself? And if so, which side would win? “Why don’t books have happy endings?”

“Some do,” Merlin said as he closed 1984 and reached up to set it back on the dresser. “Just not – books like that.”

“What kind of books do?”

“Romances, mainly,” Merlin said with a smirk and a roll of his eyes. “Yes, yes, against all the odds – romances have the highest percentage of happy endings. Someone should alert your father.”

Arthur puffed an amused breath out through his nose and asked “Can we read one of those next?”

“You – you really want to?” Merlin asked skeptically, but his hesitant grin gave him away. “Read something all about love?”

“1984 was about love,” Arthur said, staring at his hands. “Winston had nothing left but love and when he gave it up, he gave up his humanity. Makes me wonder if we’ve done the same. So yes – I want to read a romance. See what it’s like.”

“My mother told me once that her favorite book was Pride and Prejudice,” Merlin said after a moment.  “It was the first book I ever read.”

* * *

 

“It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife,” Arthur read aloud from his position seated on top of Merlin’s kitchen counter, legs dangling into thin air as Merlin squinted down at the instruction label on a box of simple pasta.

“Why is cooking so difficult?” Merlin wondered aloud. “I can’t even follow a three step list of instructions to cook noodles.”

“Maybe the answer will be in the book, Merlin,” Arthur raised a sarcastic eyebrow, made his voice even more high-brow and posh than it usually sounded and Merlin made a move to shove him off the counter.

“You’re too skinny to do this effectively!” Arthur laughed as Merlin shoved at his chest, but abruptly stopped when Merlin changed tactics to pull on his legs instead and Arthur started to lose his balance.

Needless to say both of them ended up in a heap on the floor, laughing at throwing the brittle uncooked noodles at one another.

* * *

 

“Arthur, I cannot help but notice that you have been conspicuously absent from the house most days and evenings,” Uther said in lieu of greeting one Wednesday night, two weeks later, when Arthur arrived home from Merlin’s just past nine. They had just read the climactic moment of Darcy telling Lizzie that he loved her against his will, and Merlin crowed at Lizzie’s response. Though Arthur was hardly used to romance, he couldn’t help but think that whether love was good or evil was obsolete; it just sounded complicated.

“I was at the library, Father,” Arthur said smoothly and without so much as a wrinkle in his forehead. If Uther ever discovered where he went every other day, who he was with, and what they did together –

“You have been spending an abundance of time there as of late,” Uther said, his voice severe, but his voice was always severe, so Arthur couldn’t raise his defenses quite yet. He still didn’t know what Uther was taking an issue with. “Along with time in study sessions, at the gym, talking to professors –”

“I’ll be graduating next year,” Arthur quickly followed up. “I want to be as prepared as possible for the future.”

“A worthy goal,” Uther acknowledged with a nod. “I hope your grades this semester reflect it.”

Arthur guiltily thought of his unfinished paper about the Hardy-Weinberg equilibrium and his yet to be started paper about the rise and fall of America’s democracy.

“Of course they will,” he said, refusing to show weakness in his father’s presence, as he had been conditioned to do since birth. He took a stab at addressing the problem his father found. “Is there any particular issue you take with me being here less?”

 Uther studied him expressionlessly for a moment before saying “No. I am glad, in fact, that you are spending more time away from your childhood home. You will be on your own next year, a fully-fledged adult having undergone the operation. It is best that you distance yourself from this place now so that it will be a less severe change come May.”

Arthur nodded, a shiver of relief passing through him. He seemed to have felt that too early, however, for Uther’s next words were sharper. “I do hope, however, that you are not taking advantage of my hospitality for your actions by choosing to do something foolish.”

“Like what, Father?” Arthur did his best to sound innocent and unfazed. “I have never done anything but what you commanded of me.”

“And this makes me more likely to show you lenience in these matters,” Uther said with a small nod. “However, I will reiterate – do not take advantage of my kindness.”

Kindness, Arthur thought, was quite a stretch.

* * *

 

“I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.”

Arthur paused, contemplating the line. Is that what love was? Did it always feel like that?

Merlin interrupted his silent thought with a quiet voice from beside him at the kitchen table. “You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you.”

Arthur looked up, liking the words and how they rolled off of Merlin’s tongue so effortlessly. “What’s that from?”

“Pride and Prejudice,” Merlin said with a half-smile. “It’s been a long time since broadcasting or television was permitted, but my mother told me about how one of the only things she’d ever seen play on a television screen was this.” He pointed to the book. “It was a line the adaptation added. Her favorite. One of the only times I can remember her sounding wistful or melancholic. Or, you know, saying I love you.”

“Say it again,” Arthur said, not familiar with the process of television – his father had assuredly kept _that_ evil out of his life – but liking those words even more than those he had just stated from the text.

Merlin opened his mouth as if to repeat, but closed it immediately afterward, and Arthur noticed his hand had started shaking. He was going to ask what the matter was, but Merlin stopped him by setting his shaking hand next to Arthur’s own and meeting his eye with a gaze so intense Arthur nearly shivered.

“You have bewitched me,” Merlin whispered reverently, voice shaking, “body and soul. And I love. I love. I love you.”

Arthur could do nothing but stare back, feeling the brush of Merlin’s fingers against his own and the deep intensity of his features. He tried to reply, but thankfully, his voice caught in his throat. He had no idea what he was going to say.

“I do,” Merlin clarified a moment later, gaze unchanging, “you know. Love you.”

“I –” Arthur’s breathed. “I –”

“It’s okay,” Merlin smiled sadly, but still overwhelmingly understandingly. “You don’t have to say it because I did. But I thought you deserved to know.”

“Thank you,” Arthur remembered being so disturbed at seeing Tristan and Isolde hold hands the first time he had been in Merlin’s flat, but today his greatest desire was entwine Merlin’s fingers tightly with his own. “I – I _want_ to say it to you. But I don’t know how.”

“Put the words together,” Merlin whispered, leaning forward to press their foreheads together. Arthur didn’t stiffen; in fact, he relaxed into the touch. “Mean them.”

Arthur closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath. “I – I – _love_ you. Merlin.”

Merlin leaned closer and pressed his lips lightly against Arthur’s.

Arthur had never kissed anyone before, had only pictured it a couple of times, most of them in the past two weeks, and always with someone dark-haired and lanky. It wasn’t like how he imagined it; it was better. Merlin kissed him so slowly and sweetly, lips chapped but perfect, and Arthur did his best to kiss back.

“When’s your twenty-first?” Arthur asked Merlin broke away, eyes lidded and heavy and reverent. He dreaded the answer but knew he needed it.

“April twenty-fifth,” Merlin breathed, squeezing his eyes shut in pain at the mere idea. “You?”

“May twenty-second,” Arthur shook his head, willing this to be a bad dream – he didn’t want to love Merlin, he didn’t want to have met Merlin, he wanted to live in a different life where he could meet and love Merlin.

“Four and a half months, then,” Merlin said with a reverberating sigh. They sat in silence for a moment before Merlin asked, hopeful and ever-wry, “Is it okay if I kiss you until then?”

“Need to breathe at some point,” a laugh bubbled up in Arthur’s chest. “But yes. Please.”

* * *

 

Surprisingly, the revelation that Arthur is in love with someone doesn’t seem to change his life very much. He still went to class every day and worked hard to achieve the best grades possible. He still was a bit standoffish and uptight. He still wanted to make his father proud of him, which created fissures of guilt but overall didn’t affect his actions. He still went to Merlin’s flat whenever he could and they still read books.

Just at a slower pace.

Because they spent most of their time kissing.

“We still,” Arthur told Merlin as he nipped at his jaw, “need to finish,” Merlin kissed his neck, “reading,” Merlin broke away from him to raise a condescending eyebrow as Arthur frowned severely.

“You can keep kissing me ‘til I finish my sentence,” Arthur said, and then he grabbed Merlin’s waist and started kissing _him,_ effectively ruining his entire point.

He really couldn’t bring himself to care too much.

They ended up starting Frankenstein eventually.

“Stay the night,” Merlin said as Arthur leaned against the door, hours later, letting Merlin run his fingers through his hair. “Please stay the night.”

“I can barely get away with coming here so often,” Arthur murmured into Merlin’s neck. “I’ll never be able to come here again if I stay the night.”

“Then stay forever,” Merlin said, half-jokingly but Arthur knew that in another life, he would have.

“I have to leave,” Arthur kissed him once more before reaching for the door handle, but Merlin guided his face back toward him and kissed him again, longer and slower.

“Stay the night.”

“Merlin, I –” Arthur didn’t want to admit this, but he knew that it would probably become an issue if he didn’t, “even if I could, I don’t want – what I mean to is, I don’t think I can –”

“Arthur,” Merlin pulled away so that Arthur had a clear view of his face, which was knowing as always. “I’m not asking you to stay the night so that you can have sex with me. I don’t overly want to have sex with you either, seeing as how there’s the whole drug thing in the way. If you ever want to, it’ll be a good time. If you don’t, kissing is also a really good time. And besides, it’s perfectly normal not to want to have sex even if you _don’t_ have drugs in your system, so you have nothing to worry about. I want you stay because I want to fall asleep next to you and wake up next to you.”

So Arthur had to kiss him again.

It was getting harder and harder to leave every night.

* * *

 

It was also getting harder and harder to even get there at all – Uther seemed to think that with all of the ‘responsibility’ Arthur was taking on and the initiative and adulthood he was showing, he would get Arthur started interning at the laboratories early. Therefore, at the beginning of February, Arthur started reporting to Pendragon Labs after his classes for anywhere from four to six hours.

Arthur wondered if his father somehow had an inkling of Arthur’s state of mind. He definitely didn’t know the whole story; if he did, Arthur would have already undergone the operation.

As it stood, Arthur usually managed to see Merlin Friday and Sunday evenings, and in their mutual biology class. Occasionally Merlin would surprise Arthur by finding him on campus and taking him somewhere for lunch, but they couldn’t do it too often.

One of the Fridays Arthur managed to get there, a party was in full swing. Merlin looked delighted to see him, and shrugged apologetically in the direction of the guests. “Didn’t know if you’d make it, and Elena wanted to see everyone.”

Arthur craned his neck to see Elena with tears in her eyes, sitting on the worn couch with two girls on either side of her, one with their arm around her. “What’s the matter?”

“Gwaine’s gone,” Merlin said with a grimace.

“Gwaine – had the operation?” Arthur was floored. He couldn’t imagine Gwaine as an adult; crass, crude, childish, hilarious Gwaine.

“Something like that,” Merlin muttered, and Arthur didn’t ask him to elaborate.

“Should I leave? Let you all –?”

“Of course not, I barely see you as is,” Merlin said, reaching for his hand, and even though Arthur knew it was safe in front of these people, he also knew that none of them were quite as in love as they were. Though maybe Elena had felt something for Gwaine, her tears the proof.

“I’ll find a way to be here more often, I promise,” Arthur vowed quietly so as to not be overheard, tightening his grip on Merlin’s hand.

The opportunity arose in the first week of March, with Merlin’s birthday not even two months away. Arthur was eating dinner at home with his father, a rare occurrence as of late, and Uther turned to him with his face in the permanent position of displeasure.

“I’m leaving tomorrow for the former Republics of America,” Uther informed him. “With their recent fracture, it is the perfect opportunity to convince them to adopt the operation as a part of their customs. While most of Europe has adopted my plan, the many colonies of the western world have resisted until now. I’ll be touring a variety of them to explain and hopefully initiate the program. I expect I will be gone for the next two weeks. I am sure you will continue to behave in accordance with my wishes.”

“Of course, Father,” Arthur said in a tone of dutiful respect, but inside his heart was racing with possibilities. It wouldn’t matter that Arthur’s days were jammed with meetings and experiments and classes and responsibilities, if instead of going home at night he could go to Merlin’s, which was rapidly becoming more and more like the place he thought of as home.

And so the next day, Arthur went to class and then the lab, as per usual, but he brought a bag with him. He knocked on Merlin’s door late that evening, excitement boiling in the pit of his stomach.

Merlin opened the door and delight and surprise shone in his eyes at his appearance. “Arthur, its Tuesday, what are you –”

“Two weeks,” Arthur told him a bit giddily, and pulled him into a kiss right there in the open doorway, his excitement causing him to throw away all caution and discretion.

“What –” Merlin said a bit dazedly before he noticed the bag slung over Arthur’s shoulder and his face broke into the truest grin Arthur had ever seen. “You’re staying.”

Merlin kissed him so hard it hurt.

* * *

 

“Wake up,” Arthur gently prodded Merlin’s forehead with his nose. Merlin made a mumbling noise in response. “You have class in twenty minutes. Wake up.”

“Fuck off,” Merlin muttered, rolling on top of Arthur to pin him down.

“I won’t hesitate to shove you off,” Arthur informed him, but Merlin’s hands went upward to tangle in Arthur’s hair, lips pressed to the hollow of his throat, and Arthur momentarily lost all cognitive thinking skills.

“You have class in fifteen minutes,” Arthur reluctantly told him five minutes later and Merlin duly ignored him.

It was _wonderful._

Merlin was not only terrible at waking up, but also going to sleep, staying asleep, cooking, cleaning, basic personal hygiene, and doing his homework in any manner that resembled ‘timely’.

Arthur couldn’t remember being happier.

Sure, Merlin was irritating at times, but Arthur was fully aware that he himself was irritating more of the time, and when compared with the vast emptiness of Uther’s house, Merlin’s tiny flat was perfect, and Arthur never wanted to leave.

He’d been there eight days, had roughly six more, and didn’t know how he could ever go back to not living with Merlin, especially since waking up with Merlin’s arms around him, or his arms around Merlin, was the best sensation Arthur had ever felt. He felt safe and happy and so, so _loved._

How could he have ever believed this was evil?

But there was the creeping realization that Merlin’s birthday was almost upon them.

Until then, though – Arthur would let Merlin stay in bed for five more minutes.

* * *

 

“Mr. Pendragon?”

Knowing he had to get used to people calling him by his father’s name, Arthur turned around at the sound of the meek voice of his father’s personal assistant. He had been attempting to help Dr. Leon Cartwright with his experimental procedure, but now he faced the small blond man in trepidation.

“Yes?” He asked, trying not to sound like a professional and not an annoyed teenager.

 “It’s – it’s your father, sir,” the man said nervously and Arthur stopped himself from groaning dramatically.

“Is he home early, then?” Arthur couldn’t stop a small sigh from escaping. “Great. Where do I need to meet him?”

“It’s not that, sir,” the man winced. “He – he’s had a – heart attack.”

The bottom dropped out from Arthur’s stomach. “ _What_?”

“He’s being airlifted back into the country and should be at the hospital on St. Joseph Street within the hour.”

“Is he –” Guilt churned in Arthur’s stomach. _What_ had caused this? Did it have something to do with him? “Is he going to make it?”

The assistant wouldn’t meet his eye.

Arthur stormed out of the room.

* * *

 

“Arthur.”

“Father,” Arthur sat up so quickly his neck cracked. He’d been slouched over in the hospital chair for hours now next to his father’s bedside. He had never seen Uther look so pale, so drawn, so vulnerable. And now he had regained consciousness. “Should I call for a nurse?”

“No,” Uther regarded him with his all-too-familiar stern gaze that seemed somewhat softer in the dim light of the hospital. “No, don’t. I need – to tell you something.”

“Tell me what?” Arthur asked with a disbelieving shake of his head, wondering what on earth this could be about. Any idea that came to his head he immediately dismissed as a romantic notion.

“I’ve made arrangements – for you to take my place. I’m sure you already know that. Just because you haven’t graduated university yet doesn’t mean they will not allow you to do so. They’ll put in an interim chief at the lab until you’re ready to handle it yourself. The Regents will welcome you with open arms on that very same day. You’ve been groomed for this, Arthur, and I have no doubt that you will do well by me.”

“Father, you’re not going to die,” Arthur told him, the beginnings of tears in his eyes. “Not yet.”

“In May, when you become a man,” and here Arthur felt an unpleasant tingle, “you will understand everything much better. For now, just worry about finishing your schooling. The house will be left to you as well; you will have everything you need to succeed.”

Uther’s eyes became altogether too piercing. “And you _will_ succeed. You’re my son, and you will carry on the Pendragon legacy. You will do as I command, Arthur?”

Arthur thought of Merlin, and swallowed hard. “Of course I will, Father.”

* * *

 

“Arthur, what’s the matter?” Merlin knew the moment Arthur knocked on his door, his gaze concerned and panicky, increasingly so when Arthur didn’t answer right away, just stared at Merlin and wondered how he would be described in a book, in the most romantic terms possible. Hair black like a raven’s matched against pale skin full of sharp angles and contours.  Skinny and lanky and off-kilter in the best sort of way. A smile that could light the blackest of nights. A laugh that could make warm the interior of the coldest heart.

Arthur leaned in and kissed him, long and hard and desperate, like he would never touch another person as long as he lived, that this was his last piece of humanity.

“Just once,” Arthur said as his lips broke away from Merlin’s. “Just once with someone who loves me.”

“Are you sure?” Merlin said, shaking his head in shock and wonderment as he realized what Arthur meant, reaching behind them to close the door and give them privacy. “Do you want to – talk about this first?”

“Please, Merlin,” Arthur wouldn’t beg, but he would come damn close. “Please. I want to.”

Merlin opened his mouth as if to argue, debate, convince, but instead just said “Okay,” and took Arthur’s hand, walking to the bedroom with him.

Merlin had been right when he said it still felt good; it felt like some kind of high, a soaring feeling, an escape from pain – for as Merlin pulled and pushed and held and kissed, the ache inside of Arthur was drowned out by overwhelming _feeling_. It wasn’t any feeling Arthur could name, but it kept him from experiencing guilt and regret and the bone-deep sadness he knew was coming.

Merlin kept kissing him, even after they both came; did he know, somehow? Arthur could have cried as Merlin stroked Arthur’s hair and told him how much he loved him. Instead, he buried his face in Merlin’s neck and willed the world to stop, to quit, to never move again, just so that he could stay in this moment for the rest of eternity, tangled up in the arms of someone who loved him.

“I love you too,” Arthur said into his ear just before Merlin’s body relaxed into sleep.

Painfully, Arthur disentangled himself from Merlin’s grasp and pulled on his clothes that lay strewn on the floor. He grabbed the duffel bag he brought with him last week and, with one last look at Merlin’s hand twitching as if reaching for something, he made himself walk away.

* * *

 

Uther wasn’t dead yet, but he also wasn’t in the clear. He remained in the hospital, on the brink of both life and death, Arthur’s world teetering with him.

As he waited for a verdict, Arthur helped put all of Uther’s affairs in order. His father had set up a system in which Arthur most assuredly could not fail at becoming just like his father one day. All of his assets were to go to Arthur, and more importantly, all of his power. All Arthur had to do was earn the respect of both his superiors and inferiors, with the hope that one day they would all become inferiors.

He still had to go to class, of course, and it was on Mondays’ biology class that he saw Merlin again for the first time. Surely Merlin must have heard the news, and inferred what it coupled with Arthur’s abrupt disappearance from his life must mean.

They made eye contact across the classroom and Merlin didn’t smile – just shook his head, whether in sadness or disappointment Arthur wasn’t sure and didn’t want to ask.

Once class was dismissed, Arthur could see Merlin walking his direction, and quickly and rudely shoved through the surrounding students to escape. He couldn’t do this right now. He’d have something for Merlin on Thursday, but today was too hard.

It was easier this way anyway, Arthur assured himself. It would be April in a few days’ time. Merlin’s birthday was fast approaching, and Arthur didn’t want to see bright and beautiful and passionate and overflowing-with-love Merlin once his operation was complete.

Still, on Thursday, he clutched a note in his sweaty palm, and when Merlin found him in the hallway after class, mouth open to most likely call Arthur an idiot, Arthur shoved the note into his hand and stalked away.

It wasn’t complex, it wasn’t wordy, but it was meaningful.

It was _I_ _love you._

And it meant more than that; Julia had given Winston the same note in 1984, and Arthur hoped Merlin would make the connection – that Arthur hadn’t forgotten all that he learned, all that Orwell and Huxley and Austen and Shelley and, most importantly, Merlin had taught him.

There was a part of him that both hoped and dreaded for that to be the end of it, for the next time he spoke to Merlin, if there was one, to be when they were middle-aged and had entirely lost the fire and raw emotion of their flicker of love.

But a week and a half later, someone knocked shoulders with him in the hall on the way out of biology and Arthur was about to whirl around to tell them off before he noticed that it was Merlin, and his hand had slipped into Arthur’s own just long enough to give him a note of his own before speeding up and exiting the building.

Arthur held it crumpled in his palm until he got outside, where he felt safe enough to open the message. Merlin’s familiar scrawl read _Midnight this Friday, corner of 17 th and Centennial, outside the drugstore. Please come. _

Arthur had the feeling this was more than a just a discreet meeting place, and his fear for what this encounter would bring and the changes that would echo from it.

But he would go.

Of course he would go.

* * *

 

Arthur saw Merlin standing on the street corner from blocks away. The light from the moon and the streetlight illuminated his sharp features, and Arthur had to clench his fist and dig his nails into his skin to remind himself that he couldn’t see Merlin again after tonight. That this _had_ to be it.

It was only when he was meters away that he noticed the duffel bag laying at Merlin’s feet.

“Going somewhere?” Arthur asked Merlin a bit breathlessly. He had pulled his hood up over his features just in case someone else was outside this time of night. Generally, folks stayed in; the only people out would be rowdy teenagers and university students. Still, he couldn’t take any chances right now.

“Yeah,” Merlin regarded him for a moment with an sigh of relief and an appraising glance. “Thinking about going over the city wall. Well. Under the city wall.”

“You’re kidding,” Arthur stared him down, but Merlin’s face gave nothing away. “You _have_ to be kidding. You won’t be able to get through the wall – it’s electric, and alarmed. The only way out is by air.”

“There’s a tunnel about two blocks down from here,” Merlin pointed to west, down the empty street that lined up evenly with the huge structure that kept Camelot’s citizens contained. “Hidden underneath the dirt. If you crawl for twenty meters, until the tunnel ends, you’re in the woods.”

“What are you going to do in the woods?” Arthur said a little bit desperately, mind still not fully comprehending.

“Come on, Arthur,” Merlin shook his head sadly. “You didn’t really think I’d ever have the operation, did you?”

“I – no,” Arthur admitted. “I didn’t. But I thought the choice was between that and killing yourself. I never thought – I mean, how will you survive out there?”

“There are people out there, Arthur,” Merlin said with a crooked sort of smile. “Groups, societies – all without the operation. There are always people who try to run. Some are caught, of course, but others make it out into the world away from civilization. Gwaine says they move around so as not to be caught.”

“Gwaine – he wasn’t gone because he had the operation. It was his birthday, and he left instead,” Arthur said slowly, pieces falling together. Merlin had known he would do this since before they meet.

Merlin nodded. “He knew a bloke named Lance who left a few years ago, who knew a girl named Gwen – it goes back and back and back, Arthur.”

“Why – why are you telling me this?” Arthur asked, panic setting in. If he truly was his father’s son, he would report everything Merlin told him immediately. Of course, it would mean admitting his relationship with Merlin, but at this point, he would simply have the operation done a month early to cleanse him of the feelings.

“Come with me,” Merlin said simply, hopefully, but also a bit sadly. “I know your father is dying. I know you feel an obligation to him. But once he’s gone –”

“Once he’s gone, I take over for him,” Arthur finished, shaking his hand. “Continue his legacy. Make him proud.”

“He can’t be proud when he’s dead, Arthur,” Merlin looked regretful at having put it like that, and it did feel like a slap in the face. “He can barely be proud when he’s alive. And you – I said it the first time we met. You’re brilliant and passionate and driven and _wonderful_ and I – I love you, Arthur. I don’t want you to lose those things for your sake, of course, but it’s selfish, too. I don’t want to lose you.”

“I don’t want to lose _you_ ,” Arthur told him and Merlin almost smiled before Arthur finished, “but this is a life where I can choose to take away the pain of losing you. Because if I go with you, this life will always haunt me. If I stay – if I stay, they have the ability to make your ghost disappear.”

Merlin stared at him motionlessly, sadly.

“I’m weak and malleable, I know,” Arthur breathed. “But I can’t disappoint the people who are counting on me. No matter how much I may love you, or want to go with you.”

“You know I believe in free will,” Merlin said in a strangled voice. “And this is your choice and I can’t make it for you. But I have to ask – in another life, would you follow me?”

“Without hesitation,” Arthur answered. “But this life – well. We’ve read the same books. We both know that stories like this don’t have happy endings.”

“I would write you one,” Merlin said automatically, without thought or abandon or prompting. “I’d write thousand happy endings for you.”

Arthur smiled sadly. “Maybe just read Shakespeare for me. I hope he’s as good as John thought he was. I hope – I hope that you’re heading to a _real_ brave new world, Merlin.”

“That reminds me,” Merlin reached into his back pocket and pulled out a familiar battered novel. “I want you to keep it.”

“Merlin –”

“To remember me by,” Merlin held out the book out firmly and his eyes weren’t taking no for an answer. Arthur nodded as it passed into his outstretched hand. “I never thought that I would love someone again, after Freya. I didn’t think I would have time. And is it turns out, I did.”

Merlin’s voice wavered.

“I never thought I would love anybody at all,” Arthur finally managed, a moment later. “I didn’t think I had the ability. And is turns out, I did.” He looked up into Merlin’s bright and watery gaze. “I love you, Merlin. I – I can’t choose you. But I _do_ love you. I know that I won’t anymore, not after next month, but – but I’ll always remember loving you.”

“And I can promise that I always will love you,” Merlin swallowed. “For the rest of my life. I’ll never forget you, and I know that I could fall in love a dozen times over and I’d never shake the piece of me that loves you.”

Merlin finally bridged the distance between them, pulling Arthur into his arms, hugging him tightly enough to drown out any semblance of breath. Arthur hugged back just as hard.

“I’ll miss you,” Merlin whispered into the crook of Arthur’s neck. “Always.”

“Me too,” Arthur choked back, and even though he knew it was impossible, there was a part of him that meant it.

They broke apart, and Merlin gazed at Arthur with the worst eyes he had ever seen. “I – like I said before, the tunnel is two blocks over. There’s minimal digging involved. Twenty meters out is where it comes out. And,” he leaned forward to take Arthur’s hand into his own, squeezing tightly, “on May twenty-first, the night before your birthday, I’ll be exactly one mile out. I’m sure you’re clever enough to measure a mile.”

Arthur snorted at Merlin’s last tetchy and snarky remark to him. Of course he couldn’t leave without one.

“If you change your mind, I’ll be there,” Merlin vowed, bringing Arthur’s hand up to kiss his knuckle. “I’ll wait for you.”

“Thank you,” Arthur told him, already knowing he wouldn’t go. But he let Merlin kiss him anyway, felt the beat of Merlin’s heart against his own for the last time, and said “goodbye.”

“Don’t say goodbye,” Merlin shook his head with a clever sort of smile. “No such thing. We’ll see each other again – I don’t know how or why or in what lifetime. But I’ll see you again.”

Arthur turned and walked away so as not to watch Merlin disappear forever.

* * *

 

Uther Pendragon died on May first. The funeral was a large affair, full of VIPs of not only Camelot, but nearly every city-state that had developed the operation into their customs. There were delegates from across Europe, even the Americas. Arthur shook a lot of hands, explained to a lot of people exactly how he was going to manage the completion of his schooling while learning how to run Pendragon Laboratories and train under the Regents, and listened to a lot of compliments about how he was such a fine, respectable young man who hadn’t even had the operation completed yet.

Arthur’s future was plenty bright.

It didn’t seem like that on the moment teetering between May twenty-first and May twenty-second, however. It felt pointless – hopeless – terrifying – lonely – empty –

“I am I,” Arthur said slowly to himself as he sat with a bottle of wine at the overlarge mahogany table of a mansion that had never felt nearly as much like home as Merlin’s tiny flat. He wondered what would become of the place, who would live there next, if they would realize the books read and the love story that had taken place inside its walls. “And I wish I weren’t.”

Arthur downed the rest of his drink as he stood up, stretching. He had one last thing to do before it was well and truly his birthday, when he would be taken to the hospital at nine o’clock sharp and a needle would pierce his spinal column and make it impossible to feel anything ever again.

He found a pen, along with two pieces of paper and envelopes to match. The first he addressed to Merlin. He wrote for a good long hour, pouring his soul onto the page, letting every emotion he had ever felt out, so that tomorrow he would be well and truly drained. When he sealed it, he knew he would never open it again.

The second, however, he addressed to himself. This message didn’t take nearly as long. The words were concise, neat, and to the point. Arthur put it in the envelope when he was finished, but he didn’t seal it. He wanted to make sure that he would read it again and again and again, in the hope that the message could someday stick.

_You loved him. You’re a fucking coward._


	2. After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took so much longer than I meant to. It was a hectic couple weeks for me - I graduated high school and was in Chicago for awhile. I tried to finish it before I left, but that didn't go over so great with my whole motivation thing. Still, it's here now, and I hope it's worth the wait!

_How is it possible for one to remove love from the human psyche when one does not know where it comes from?_

_Science has told us that it is a series of chemical reactions in the brain. Literature has told us that it is felt in the heart, separate from logic and reason. The true answer is neither of these things; love comes from a source that we do not understand. It transcends both knowledge and physical limitations. The idea of love is closely entwined with that of soul. These concepts are outside the realm of human understanding. We can practice them, mold them, change them, but we cannot understand how they came to be._

_Therefore, I have come to the conclusion that the surgical removal of love does not destroy a human’s ability to love; it only stops to the mind from experiencing it._

Arthur sighed, tapping his pen against his teeth. He wasn’t sure how he wanted to continue this train of thought – well, he knew what his chosen end result was, but it seemed like he ought to create more of a background, an understandable ambiance, less of a scientific journal and more of a –

It was only right that a scientific journal should have as much information as possible, however, and despite the unquestioned brilliance of Uther Pendragon, Arthur had never been able to piece together all of his notes. The operation depended upon a list of steps, the necessary components of the serum being common knowledge.

However, there were clear links missing in Uther’s research, and even though the operation indisputably achieved its goal, Arthur also had no idea how.

His eyes flickered to the clock on the wall of the empty laboratory; he had, as he always did, stayed long past the rest of his employees and well into the night.

It was very nearly midnight.

Arthur was ten minutes away from his thirtieth birthday.

He squeezed his eyes closed, head aching and chest hollow.

* * *

 

“Mr. Pendragon, a word, if you will.”

“Yes?” Arthur looked up from his desk in the Regents Hall, pushing aside the recent report from Visage, one of the new American colonies that had adopted the operation into law only mere months ago. Arthur was in charge of keeping their fluctuating city-state as stable as possible in the transition.

It was a difficult job, one that wasn’t made any easier with Agravaine standing in his doorway with a condescending expression. He had never believed Arthur capable of such responsibility at his young age, and it showed in his treatment of Arthur. He held a professional distaste for the man.

“There seems to be a problem down in the prison cells,” Agravaine informed him tartly, taking Arthur’s acknowledgement of his presence as an invitation to take a seat opposite him.

“And why are you not informing Cenred of this?” Arthur raised an eyebrow. “That is his area of expertise, is it not?”

“Cenred is in the cells currently. He requested you meet him there.”

“Why?” Arthur said blankly, not being able to draw up a reason. The adult population of Camelot usually did not have the motivations necessary for a life a crime, and though scandal happened, it was rare. Surely Cenred could deal with a few rowdy teenagers. Or, more likely, some rebel living outside of Camelot’s walls had been caught. But the protocol for that instance was hardly an incentive for Arthur to be involved.

Agravaine gave him a long-suffering look, pursing his lips at what he probably saw as Arthur purposefully being difficult. “Is it not obvious? There is a prisoner there who requires special attention.”

“And what’s stopping you from helping?” Arthur said dismissively, eyes already searching for report from Visage, finished with the conversation.

“Cenred requested –”

“ _Cenred_ can make do with people who have the time, and you clearly have an abundance of it,” Arthur looked Agravaine levelly in the eye. “I’m a busy man, Agravaine. I cannot be expected to cater to Cenred’s whims. If he finds himself incapable of doing his job –”

“The _prisoner_ says that he knows you, and will not speak to anyone _but_ you.”

Agravaine’s expression was smug and self-satisfied. Arthur’s expression was mild and unchanging, but his insides seemed to make a swooping motion that was altogether unpleasant.

He could connect the dots, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

There were many people that this could be – well, a fair few. Arthur’s brief resistance had brought him into contact with a number of people who had later run from society. Gwaine Green for one – Elena Carion for another. It didn’t have to be –

It probably was, Arthur reflected and wondered how he would feel about it if he was capable.

As it stood right now, he just knew that it wasn’t _good_.

Probably just the amount of paperwork and how Arthur’s reputation would be affected, he reasoned with himself as he said to Agravaine “Well, why didn’t you _open_ with that? Tell George to cancel my 11:00 conference call.”

* * *

 

“Ah, Arthur, good – you’re here.”

Cenred was less of a hassle than Agravaine was, but his demeanor always put Arthur off. His smile was slow and drawn and almost knowing. The man in question was standing at the entrance to the underground prison cells, and was taking far longer than necessary to patch Arthur through the security measures.

“I was told I was required,” Arthur said neutrally, eying his key card and then Cenred, willing the man to go faster so he could get this over with.

“Yes, a patrol found a young man in the east woods last night, a mile or so out – immediately knocked out and brought here, of course. Looks like he’s maybe gone ten years past his operation date. Shocking, really, that people can survive for that long on their own, don’t you agree?”

“Of course,” Arthur said. He had never shared any information about the outside world that Merlin had given him, and he didn’t feel any need to start now. However, it was beginning to look more and more like Merlin was the man Arthur would greet inside.

“We were just going to add him to the list for late operations, but once he woke up, he had _demands_.” Cenred laughed as if this were the most ridiculous thing in the world. Arthur laughed with him, but knew that if Merlin hadn’t changed in the intermittent years, there was no chance of him submitting to another’s will without a hell of a fight.

 _Do not go gentle into that goodnight,_ Arthur was reminded of the book of poetry he had found in father’s library, shortly after his death, and how it had been so reminiscent of Merlin – but he had just had the operation, and the weaknesses were being worked out of his system. _Rage, rage against the dying of the light._

That wouldn’t explain the hours spent in that library for years to come, but Arthur pushed that thought aside for now.

“And his demands were?” He asked instead.

“You,” Cenred said, a challenge in his voice. “He said he knew you. That he _had_ to speak with you. I’m not one to take orders, but I figured that I’d at least let you take a look at him.”

“I appreciate it,” Arthur said cordially and truthfully. “So are you going to take me to him, or just talk about it?”

“Right this way.” Cenred finally cleared Arthur’s security codes and led him down the stairs and into the dank grey of Camelot’s prison. Arthur had only been here a small number of times; as he had informed Agravaine, this was not his area. Something negative grew in his chest as his foot hit the final stair and saw Cenred gesture to one of the cell doors.

“After you,” Cenred raised an eyebrow, but Arthur immediately refuted him.

“I’m sorry, did he say he wishes to speak to _me_ or that he wishes to speak to _us_? If this situation has been explained to me properly, then you have no need to accompany me. Your presence may make him angrier.”

Cenred’s look darkened, but he nodded, conceding Arthur’s point, and once the cell door was unlocked, Arthur stepped inside alone.

The man sitting on the bench opposite Arthur was both who he expected most and not at all. This man was lean and muscular, posture languid. He was still on the skinny side, but no longer appeared as if a strong gust of wind could knock him over. Arthur noticed the taut muscles in his arms that were clenched in apprehension. His hair was the same shade of black, but there were curls hiding his ears and a fringe that fell into his eyes. He had a decent amount of scruff on his chin, but the shape of his face remained the same under it.

His eyes were the only thing that hadn’t changed at all – still blue, still bright, and for a split second, full of hope.

But only for a split second, before they turned hard and icy and unyielding.

“Told you that we’d see each other again.”

It had been so long since Arthur had heard Merlin’s voice in any place but his dreams. Had it always been so deep, so raspy?

“You did,” Arthur acknowledged and, with a look backward to make sure the door was fully shut and Cenred was not in earshot, turned back with less apprehension. “Did you get captured on purpose?”

“You really that highly of yourself?” Merlin raised a judgmental eyebrow. “That I would willingly risk my life and liberty for man I knew ten years ago? Return to the place I had spent my life wishing escape from?”

“Just wanted to check,” Arthur said, and then fell silent.

Merlin did not contribute any conversation, only stared at Arthur impassively. Arthur could see a flicker of contempt in his eyes.

“You’re the one who demanded to see me,” Arthur finally broke the silence. “I assume there’s a reason why.”

“I figured that if I was going to be forced into having the operation, I should at least get to see you once beforehand,” Merlin shrugged his shoulders as if he was entirely unbothered by this entire experience.

“So you’ve already conceded to us?” Arthur asked, and didn’t miss the tremor of Merlin’s features at the word ‘us’.

“I don’t concede to anyone, not ever,” Merlin said, voice leaving no room for argument. “Surely you remember that, at least. Come on, sweetheart. You can make better threats than that.”

“Sweetheart?” Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to distract me? If so, it’s a shoddy choice on your point. You’ve never called me sweetheart.”

“Any reason I can’t start?” Merlin rose to the challenge with a sneer. “ _Sweetheart_.”

“I’d ask if anyone has ever told you how difficult you are – but I already know the answer,” Arthur did his best to match Merlin’s disaffected and rebellious tone. “If you don’t have any further demands, I’ll tell Cenred to deal with you how he sees fit.”

“You have fun with that,” Merlin said with a roll of his eyes, but Arthur knew that in his mind, Merlin was already planning a thousand escape routes. If this was to be a game, Arthur had the advantage; he _knew_ Merlin so utterly and completely, while Merlin had no idea who Arthur was anymore.

The hollow pit in Arthur’s stomach became more pronounced as he turned to leave, but he was fully planning on ignoring it and telling Cenred to schedule the operation for as soon as possible until Merlin called, “Oh, and Arthur? Happy birthday.”

He froze; for all of Arthur’s logic and pragmatism, he hadn’t allowed the pieces to fall into place until now. He turned slowly back around to see Merlin smirking at him, clearly pleased with getting a reaction. Arthur suddenly found himself short of breath.

“The patrol found you in the east woods – about a mile out,” Arthur began stiffly. “It’s been nine years since that night. Why did you come back?”

“Oh, because I come back every year, sweetheart,” Merlin’s tone was venomous and hoping to puncture, but Arthur knew that this had to be hurting him on some level, if he kept coming back. “It’s a tradition – I hold vigil for your death. Here lies Arthur Pendragon – or at least any of the good that’s in him. And at the young age of twenty-one; such a tragedy.”

“Not dead yet, Merlin,” Arthur breathed out, and Merlin looked like he was going to open his mouth to retaliate with some biting comment that could have sounded hopeful or desperate or kind from someone else’s lips. But Merlin clearly wanted to hurt Arthur.

And why, when he knew Arthur would be unaffected?

Once again, Arthur ignored the bone-crushing emptiness that seemed to fill up not only his stomach and chest, but his entire body.

Arthur turned and left before Merlin garnered any further reaction.

* * *

 

“So – are you going to meet this man’s _demands_ , or should I just add him to the operation list? There’s an opening in three days.”

Three days, Arthur thought melancholically as Cenred escorted him back up the stairs. He thought of Merlin’s first words to him – _but doesn’t the operation prevent free will_? Merlin’s choices had always been the thing that defined him. Did Arthur have the right to take away his choice?

He had learned long ago that the operation didn’t prevent Arthur from knowing if an act was right or wrong. Just as he knew that thievery and murder were fundamentally wrong, he knew that free will was fundamentally right. All thanks to Merlin, he supposed.

“The man’s demands were just childish begging for his life, or rather, his emotions,” Arthur answered coolly, knowing that Merlin would never beg for anything. If it came down to it, he’d probably stay conscious through the operation just to stare Arthur down as if to say ‘your fault’. “Though don’t put him on the list just yet – I am working on an experiment at the labs and require a test subject who is past the age of twenty-one and has not undergone the operation.”

It was halfway true; Arthur was indeed working on an experiment, and he’d already collected data from himself to compare with the results of whomever he tested next. However, he didn’t need them to be over twenty-one. Still, it would buy him some time to figure out what to do with this situation. He felt little for Merlin, this was certain, but he remembered who he was at age twenty; he had kept his promise.

_You loved him. You’re a fucking coward._

“Makes sense,” Cenred acknowledged, but Arthur could tell the man wasn’t entirely sold. “Did he truly know you?”

Arthur thought for a moment before answering truthfully “We had biology class together.”

Cenred raised an eyebrow. “Well, that’s grasping for straws. I can’t see why he could have thought you’d take pity on him. You couldn’t have done that even if you’d – ha! – been his friend.”

Cenred let out a bark of maniacal laughter at the mere thought, and Arthur forced himself to chuckle along with him.

 _A man may smile and smile and be a villain,_ he thought before having to shake himself out of his reverie.

* * *

 

He went home and reread _Brave New World_ for the hundredth time or so. Arthur had access to his father’s library now, and had scoured through every book he could find, but there was no book so used as Merlin’s tattered copy of the story of John the Savage.

Arthur had never felt more like Mustapha Mond – giving up truth and beauty for happiness.

But did he even have _that_?

He couldn’t feel. Therefore he couldn’t be sure.

The only emotion he knew was _empty._

* * *

_The only conclusion is that the operation affects either the receptor pathways or the area of the brain that intercepts these signals. We know very little about the brain, and only certain sections have been fully explored. If love comes from ‘soul’, and we don’t know where ‘soul’ is located, then we must assume that the signaling pathway is interfered with._

_A test has been performed on a subject (Arthur J. Pendragon) who has undergone the operation to test his emotional responses to certain stimuli. A subject who has not experienced the operation is required as a control._

“Arthur, you have a call from Cenred Slate.”

Leon poked his head into Arthur’s office in the laboratory, and Arthur quickly slammed a book down over his words. There was no need for anyone to know what Arthur was experimenting with.

“Wonderful,” Arthur said sarcastically. “What does he want?”

“He says that your presence is needed in the prison cells – apparently there’s a man there who tried to escape? I’m not sure if that falls under your jurisdiction, but –”

Arthur cursed mentally. It had only taken Merlin a _day_ to do something reckless and impulsive and – well, Merlin-like. To be honest, he should have expected this. But a _day_?

“Tell him I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Arthur said with a sigh as he rose to his feet.

* * *

 

“Hey, sweetheart. Nice you to drop by.”

“Merlin,” Arthur said, shaking his head, exasperated. “A _day_?”

“Fuck off,” Merlin said without punch. He looked much the same as yesterday, only there was a bloody gash on his forehead from where one of the prisoner guards knocked him out. One of the guards had come by with food and Merlin had knocked him out with the man’s own weapon. He had nearly made it to the stairs before the group stationed there had apprehended him.

It was a stupid, desperate plan and Arthur knew that Merlin was capable of something cleverer than that. He wondered if this incident was supposed to lure him here.

Well, it worked. But Merlin hadn’t known that Arthur was coming back regardless.

“That’s going to get infected if someone doesn’t take care of it,” Arthur eyed his wound. Merlin rolled his eyes.

“You offering?”

“I am, actually,” Arthur said impassively, staring at Merlin in his calmest demeanor. “I’m taking you back to my lab with me. I have an experiment that I’ve been working on and need a control subject – someone who hasn’t been exposed to the operation.”

Merlin just raised a disbelieving eyebrow, and then winced in pain, the wound above it not taking movement well. Blood trickled down the side of his face. “Is that what you tell every captured rebel in order to get you to go with them quietly? I won’t have the operation, Arthur. I’ll kill myself first.”

“You promised me you wouldn’t,” Arthur made sure he wasn’t looking into Merlin’s eyes, negative spikes in his chest.

“I promised you a lot of things, sweetheart,” Merlin said, and though anger was evident in his voice, Arthur could also hear something that sounded like regret.

“Why do you insist on calling me that?” Arthur sighed, frustrated. “Is that your name for your _new lover_?”

Arthur wondered who it was; if it was a man or a woman, someone Arthur had met, what they looked like, if they were dark-haired or blonde, brown eyes or blue. Somehow, he didn’t think Merlin was in love with whoever they were, not when he had come for Arthur every year.

“I’d keep the judgement out of your tone if I were you, Mr. Married Man,” Merlin said threateningly. “How old are your kids now?”

Arthur pursed his lips and looked away. “Not married, Merlin.”

“Blatant lie,” Merlin said, eyes drilling a hole in the side of Arthur’s head.

“It’s not,” Arthur said, shrugging a bit helplessly. He didn’t know what else to say; it was the truth, no matter how furious it made Merlin. “I _was_ married; I got married to when I was twenty-five, like everyone else, to a girl named Mithian. But we couldn’t conceive, and figured out that – that _I_ was the problem.” Arthur bit his tongue for a moment as he stared at his shoes. “She got married to someone else – had children with him. I convinced the Regents that being childless would only increase my loyalty and commitment to them.”

Merlin was silent for a moment, and when Arthur looked up, his eyes were more contemplative than hard and unyielding. “Has it?”

Arthur shrugged again. They were both silent for a moment as Merlin digested the information. Arthur wondered if it would make Merlin see him in a different light.

“I’m still not coming with you,” Merlin said gruffly.

Arthur stepped forward, reaching for the tranquilizer in his back pocket. He wasn’t comfortable doing this, but Merlin, as he himself had stated, was not one to come quietly. “At least let me look at your wound.”

Merlin raised an eyebrow, but didn’t protest when Arthur came toward him. Arthur tentatively reached to touch the side of Merlin’s face, tilt his head so that he could see the gash properly. A tremor ran through his body as his fingers touched the stubble on Merlin’s chin, and he could feel Merlin looking at him. He wondered if it was affectionately or defiantly.

Either way, Merlin was distracted enough that Arthur’s other hand could reach up to push the tranquilizer into his neck. The other man’s body relaxed instantly, and Arthur found himself holding Merlin up by the chin.

He knelt down so as to better hold Merlin upright, but that ended up being a poor choice on his part, for he could not stop looking at Merlin’s body.

He had never thought of Merlin as small; he had been skinny and knobby, sure, but his larger-than-life personality had never made Arthur think of him as weaker. But he could remember how easy it had been to move Merlin’s body around, to manhandle him or to lift him up or slide him closer to Arthur.

Arthur had the distinct feeling that he couldn’t to do that with nearly as much ease today. Merlin was still skinny, but he was more lean than lanky, and Arthur ran a hand across the width of his shoulder blade.

He let his hand move up slightly, to touch Merlin’s hair, curly and longer than Arthur had seen it. He remembered what it looked like short, and decided he liked it better longer. He wasn’t sure about the stubble, and his mind couldn’t help but think about how it would feel different to kiss him.

Arthur could have called for a guard to help him, but instead he took a hold of Merlin’s waist – again, not nearly as narrow as he remembered – and hoisted him upright, throwing one of the man’s arms around his shoulder and headed out of the cell.

He wondered what Merlin had thought of how he had changed when they laid eyes on each other again for the first time.

Well. It wasn’t a fair comparison. Arthur had changed entirely. Merlin’s physical changes weren’t a reflection of his inner changes. He was as much the same as ever.

Angrier, sure. Sadder, absolutely. But he was still Merlin.

Arthur didn’t think he was still Arthur.

* * *

 

“ _Fuck_.” Merlin woke with a groan.

Arthur winced, not ready for Merlin to be awake and have snappy comments about everything, purely meant to be hurtful to Arthur. He focused his energy on pinning the electrodes to Merlin’s bare chest, more defined than it had been nine years ago.

Still, he couldn’t help but notice when Merlin’s first action was to reach up gingerly and touch his forehead, where Arthur had bandaged the gash.

“Well, I suppose you kept your word,” Merlin winced as he sat up carefully. Arthur shot him a sharp look, still trying to attach the electrodes. Merlin tried to pull one off, but Arthur slapped his hand away.

“This isn’t the operation,” Arthur informed him. “We’re in my office in Pendragon Laboratories, which is not where the operation takes place, and the operation does not involve electrodes, which, as an unfinished biology major, you should know.”

Merlin glared, but didn’t try to fight Arthur on the point, probably more because he looked faint and his eyes were going out of focus than because he was ceding to Arthur’s will.

“Fuck, my head hurts,” Merlin rubbed the bandaged for a moment. “How’d I get here? What’d you do?” He paused for a moment before regaining his usual snarky cynicism. “Drug me? Bewitch me?”

Arthur attached the electrodes to his monitor, letting the machine start recording Merlin’s emotional state before answering. He knew that Merlin was referencing Arthur’s slightly idiotic and very desperate attempts to reason away Merlin’s influence in his life, but Arthur couldn’t help but think of sitting in Merlin’s kitchen with Pride and Prejudice, the first time Merlin had kissed him. _You have bewitched me –_

“Body and soul,” Arthur answered softly, looking down at the machine instead of in Merlin’s eye. There was a sudden spike in its readings. “And I love, I love, I love you.”

The readings remained very high. Arthur turned around to find Merlin staring at him. Just staring.

“I don’t, of course,” Arthur forced himself to say, and Merlin’s taut muscles seemed to relax just slightly, as did his face, into a pained expression. “That would be impossible. But I remembered – I kept my promise.”

“I suppose you did,” Merlin rasped, eyes closed. Something Arthur did finally affected him. “So what are these for?” He gestured toward the electrodes attached to his chest and head.

“Testing emotional responses,” Arthur answered truthfully. “Like I said before – I need a control subject, someone who hasn’t undergone the operation, to see what emotions they experience as opposed to –”

“You,” Merlin said lightly, though his tone was somewhat accusing. “Were you testing on yourself?”

“Yes,” Arthur said after a moment, not knowing what Merlin could do with this information that would put him at an advantage.

“And – may I ask –” Out of someone else’s mouth, an interjection would have been polite, but Merlin was Merlin and therefore it was venomous and mocking. “–What were your results?”

“Similar to my expectations.” Arthur knew he was being vague, but he also knew Merlin would keep pushing until he got what he wanted. He always did.

“Which were?”

Arthur sighed, his eyes meeting Merlin’s. Merlin’s eyes, at least, were one thing that hadn’t changed a bit. Sure, they were angry and hard, but Arthur knew that they could go soft and affectionate, had almost seen flickers of positivity a few times. It was enough to go on.

“You were wrong about emotions being gone entirely,” Arthur began, and Merlin snorted in derision, but Arthur kept talking before he could interrupt further. “You were right that I don’t have control over them, however. Emotions are…like dull points. I can only tell if something is positive or negative. Judging the situation, I can tell logically if I should be angry or sad or joyful, but I don’t actually feel any of those things. Just a tiny indication whether something is good or bad.”

Merlin looked at him contemplatively, probably trying to figure out if he was telling the truth. That was alright; it didn’t matter if he didn’t believe Arthur, Arthur had spoken nothing but the truth. If Merlin couldn’t accept that, then there was no forcing him to.

“When you saw me – was that positive or negative?”

Arthur swallowed hard. “Both.”

Merlin nodded, grimacing sadly, and Arthur could tell that his story was accepted. He looked over at Merlin’s chart, which was just slightly above the neutral line. That was odd – it should be lower, based on the situation. Was Merlin thinking about something else?

“Is that in, then?” Merlin finally asked with a sigh. “Positive or negative, good or bad – nothing else? Ever?”

He sounded so pitying. Arthur wondered if he pitied Arthur or pitied himself for having to learn this unfortunate fact. He was about to answer yes to put all of Merlin’s fears and hopes or whatever he had away for good, but he hesitated, something stopping him.

“No,” he admitted, and Merlin’s eyes regarded him suspiciously. “I feel – I _always_ feel – empty.”

“I suppose it doesn’t help,” Merlin said softly after a moment, voice no longer tetchy and defiant, but almost comforting, “that you can’t have a family. You couldn’t love them, but at least they’d be people you have a connection with. That you see every day.”

“If one’s different, one’s bound to be lonely,” Arthur said quietly, not thinking, and Merlin very nearly smiled at him.

“Brave New World,” Merlin acknowledged, faint smile still characterizing his face. He looked very nearly affectionate. “You remembered.”

“Of course I did,” Arthur said as if it was obvious. It was for him, but decidedly not for Merlin. “I’m Mustapha Mond, after all. I gave up truth and beauty for happiness.”

“Did you?” Merlin said quietly, but accusingly. “Because I don’t think you’re happy, Arthur. And not just because you _can’t_ be.”

Arthur swallowed the accusation without much trouble. He knew that Merlin was right. But this was the life he had chosen, and it wasn’t like he could break away from that now. He was locked into his life from the moment he turned twenty-one and nothing anyone said or did could change that.

“I gave up something,” Arthur finally said, “for something else. Something I thought was better.”

“Was it?”

Arthur was silent for a moment before asking “What about you? Are you glad you made the choice you did?”

“Yes,” Merlin said, simply and concisely, staring Arthur right in the eye. “I wish you would have chosen the same, but I can’t change the past. And I’m happy with my choices. Because I got to _make_ choices. The way I live now, I am not subject to anyone else’s will – only my own. I wouldn’t trade that for the world.”

“Do you – are you – married?” Arthur asked, not knowing what answer to expect. “Or the equivalent of marriage?”

Merlin, frowning at the abrupt shift in topic, shook his head a little sadly. “No. I’ve slept with people, but –” he paused, wincing, “– I haven’t fallen in love with – with anyone since –”

“Are you – are you still in love with me?” Arthur breathed out with some difficulty, gripping the table with force, turning away from Merlin to stare at the graph of his emotions. The spikes were going up and down, alternating in medium but all at a constant intensity.

“Dunno,” he heard Merlin’s voice choke as if words were being forced out against his will. “I – I _waited_ for you, Arthur. I think I’ve been waiting all this time.”

There was a wretched sob from behind him, and Arthur willed his eyes to squeeze shut, though there was something inside him that moved as he heard the tears in Merlin’s voice.

“I waited for a _week_ after your twenty-first. I kept trying to convince myself that you were still coming – that you’d gotten held up, that you couldn’t measure a mile, that _I_ couldn’t measure a mile, that we just kept missing each other – even after I gave up and left, I came back _every_ _single year._ I had drawn an arrow on a rock and pointed it in the direction that I was, and I’d come to change it when I moved, _just in case you were still coming._ I loved you so goddamn much; I should have just fucking realized that you hadn’t chosen me. I did realize it. Over and over again. But I _still_ came back. Every time.”

Arthur had never been more certain that his operation had been a fluke, that there was some flaw in his code, because the empty hollow feeling in his chest suddenly expanded to his entire body, until the state of _not-feeling_ that he spent all of his time in became so overwhelmingly intense that it turned full-circle and became _feeling_ again.

He turned slowly to see Merlin staring at his feet, shuddering and tears streaking the lines on his face. Arthur thought briefly he should do something about that; he unsteadily stepped forward until he was just in front of Merlin.

Merlin finally looked up when Arthur stood mere inches from him, and his eyes bore a hole in Arthur; they were so deadened, so desperate, so _alone._ “How was that for a _reading on my emotions_? Hope you got everything you were looking for, sweetheart.”

Without thinking about it, Arthur slowly knelt down so that he was at eye level with Merlin – so that they were equals again instead of a scientist and his specimen, a guard and his prisoner. He wondered if they could ever be Arthur and Merlin again. He knew Merlin loved him – he could see it in his face, in the way he lashed out so desperately, all of his words trying in vain to cause Arthur pain.

Arthur couldn’t want, couldn’t wish, couldn’t need –

But the unbearable emptiness was too much.

He wanted, wished, _needed_ to feel something.

Anything.

He thought of the marks on Merlin’s chart, and thought maybe someday in the near future, he could. For now, he put his hand over Merlin’s own, and leaned down to rest his head on Merlin’s lap.

Merlin let out a choked sort of noise at the pressure, but Arthur just pressed his forehead onto Merlin’s knee and tried his hardest to breathe.

“Sweetheart,” Merlin gasped for breath, and this time it wasn’t a mocking jibe, meant to maim Arthur. It sounded like an actual form of endearment, as if it were a decade ago in Merlin’s flat on his worn sofa. “What are you – how are you –”

“Please,” Arthur rasped, nearly shaking. “Please make the empty space go away.”

“Arthur, I don’t think I can,” Merlin’s voice was tentative and shaking, broken from every angle, but Arthur still felt Merlin’s hand come to rest on the back of his neck, curled around the end of his hair. “I think you have to do that.”

“But I _can’t_ ,” Arthur said, and wasn’t that the crux of it all? There was something in his body that was supposed to fix him, but it just left him shattered beyond repair. He wondered time and again if everyone was hiding their brokenness, or if there was something special about him.

Something special like Merlin.

“Arthur,” Merlin’s hands found their way to Arthur’s shoulders, and he lightly pushed Arthur into a kneeling position, their faces opposite one another. Merlin’s features were helpless and terrified, but they also regarded Arthur with something that felt pure, and sweet, and right. “Maybe you can. I never thought someone who had the operation could feel anything at all. But you _can._ It’s not enough, but maybe you can change that.”

“I want to,” Arthur told him shakily, and it was only when he said it that he had to accept it as reality. Why else would he be performing this experiment in the first place, if not to undo the operation’s damage? And how could he know he was damaged if there wasn’t _some_ part of him, however small, that still felt? “I want to know…what passion is. I want to feel something strongly.”

Merlin shook his head, but it wasn’t sad anymore. It was as if he found Arthur so totally endearing. “I’m guessing you still have Huxley’s book, then?”

“Of course,” Arthur said, not knowing how Merlin could think any differently. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Merlin reached forward a bit hesitantly before bridging the distance between them by brushing Arthur’s hair out of his eyes. He did it slowly and unsurely, looking at Arthur as if for permission. Arthur closed his eyes at the touch; it had been five years since anyone had given him more than a handshake or a pat on the back, and another five years before that since anyone had ever truly wanted to touch him.

“Operation couldn’t change one thing,” Merlin smiled sadly as a breath puffed through his nose. He bit his lip shyly as he said “You are still so beautiful.”

Arthur suddenly found he couldn’t look at Merlin anymore, with his tentative smile and his eyes filled with something Arthur could only call hope.

Instead he pressed his head back down into Merlin’s lap, and he felt Merlin’s shaking hand run through his hair. There might have been words said, but Arthur couldn’t be sure. It didn’t matter what they were; Arthur couldn’t feel anything in response to them.

Could he?

* * *

 

Without realizing it, Arthur had fallen asleep, so he was surprised to wake up curled in a ball on the floor, head resting against Merlin’s thigh. He blinked blearily at his surroundings as he forced himself into an upright position.

It was morning, but thankfully no one had attempted to enter Arthur’s office yet. He ambled toward the door to make sure it was locked, and noticed that Merlin had slid off of the chair he had been sitting in last night onto the floor with Arthur, leaning up against the table. He had taken the electrodes out of his chest, but he hadn’t bothered to move otherwise.

The click of the lock going into place seemed to jolt Merlin awake, because when Arthur turned back, Merlin was looking at him through heavily lidded eyes.

“You stayed,” Arthur said when Merlin didn’t speak. “I thought you would run.”

“Thought or hoped?” Merlin’s voice scratched as he pulled himself to his feet. He looked around for a moment before grabbing his shirt off of Arthur’s counter.

Arthur didn’t answer his question, falling back on the logic and pragmatism he had grown to know so well. “Why didn’t you run? There’s less security here than in the cells.”

Merlin stared at him for a moment as if Arthur was the stupidest person he had ever met before saying “Wouldn’t have felt right.”

“The operation won’t feel right, either,” Arthur said, a little too sharply. Was last night just a fluke? A flaw in Arthur’s code that couldn’t be repeated?

Merlin shrugged. “I’ll find another opportunity to escape. But I couldn’t….not last night. That was too –”

“Do you think I still love you?” Arthur asked quietly, and Merlin only tilted his head in response, but Arthur could see the fear in his eyes.

“No,” Merlin answered him, but Arthur didn’t know if it was the truth. “You can’t. But – I think you can still feel _something_ for me. And…that’s far, far worse than you not feeling anything at all.”

“Why is it worse?” Arthur almost whispered. He didn’t know how to find any of these answers himself – he couldn’t feel them. But Merlin could.

“Because it gives me the slightest bit of hope,” Merlin said with a wry smile, “that there might be another opportunity for you to choose me.”

 _Maybe there is,_ Arthur wanted to say, but knew he couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to give Merlin false hope again. But still, when he thought of his research and of the readings he had transmitted from Merlin last night –

“I’ll help you escape,” Arthur said quietly, a compromise in his mind, but Merlin’s eyes went wide.

“You’ll do _what_?” Merlin asked, eyebrows rising in shock and disbelief.

“I’ll help you escape,” Arthur repeated. “You just need to give me a little time. All you have to do is trust me.”

Merlin stared at him for a moment, squinting as if trying to see through Arthur to something else. “And if this is a ruse meant to trick me into receiving the operation?”

“Merlin,” Arthur sighed, trying to figure out how to articulate something he’d never been able to say out loud, “right and wrong are not emotions. They’re more like facts. Someone’s perception of them can be different, but I know when something that I’m doing is wrong. And it would be wrong to force you to undergo the operation. Is that enough to go on? To get you to listen?”

Merlin hesitated for a fraction of a second, eyes still untrusting, and Arthur thought the answer would be no. But instead Merlin shrugged his shoulders and said “What the hell? It’s probably no riskier than any of my current plans.”

Arthur couldn’t help but think maybe Merlin agreed just for the sake of another opportunity for Arthur to choose him. Arthur didn’t know if it was possible – but he would find out.

“I’m going to take you back to the cells,” Arthur said carefully, putting all of the pieces together in his mind. “I’ll tell Cenred that I’ll need you again in the future, so you’re not to be touched. The next time I visit the cells, I’ll bring something for you. That night is the night you escape. I’ll figure it out so that you’ll be met with as little opposition as possible.”

“Wouldn’t that bring shame to the glorious Pendragon name?” Merlin’s voice leaked sarcasm, but he regarded Arthur with something that, if someone didn’t know Merlin, they could say was respectful.

“Like I said,” Arthur reiterated, “I’ll figure out.”

Merlin simply said “okay.”

The clock was set. Arthur looked past Merlin to the stack of notes on his desk. He was no closer to figuring out an answer to how the operation worked, let alone how to reverse its affects.

Merlin could escape without it, but Arthur wouldn’t be able to follow.

And there was a part of him, the part that was left untouched by the operation, which desperately wanted to follow.

* * *

 

_The data taken from test subjects indicates that though there is a fundamental difference in amounts of emotion, emotion is still present. The key difference in the locations that the signals are coming from is the sensory neurons. This holds true to the theory that it is the process of feeling love that is cut off, not the actual love itself._

_There is a pathway from the spinal column to this area that, according to the notes of Uther Pendragon, is the pathway that the serum of the operation takes, and then spreads from there throughout the rest of the brain. However, if this is the site of impact, this can be the site of impact for a potential cure and its mechanisms will work similarly._

_This leaves us with one question: what can be used to counteract the effects of the operation? We have two options. The first, more challenging option is to find a serum that creates love instead of inhibits it. The second, more plausible option is to find a serum that neutralizes the effects of the first serum. Both plans have risks involved, and we have no way of knowing that even if the serum works, that the effect will last._

_But I made someone a promise, and I need to try._

Arthur stared down at his desk, not knowing where to go next. He had moved from his office in Pendragon Laboratories to his home – the same home that he had grown up in. He sat in the library that formerly belonged to Uther Pendragon, and looked up to the book surrounding him.

Merlin would love it here.

Arthur let his hand rest upon the book next to his notes: A Clockwork Orange. The book he had accidentally picked up as a child had been about free will – immediately taken from him by his father.

Irony at its finest.

And yet there was something about A Clockwork Orange that rang just as true as any of the books Arthur had read with Merlin – life was nothing without it. You could do anything, be anything, but when it wasn’t your choice, it wasn’t real.

Arthur had chosen the operation once.

He didn’t need to choose it again.

He turned back to his notes with new vigor.

* * *

 

Arthur hadn’t slept in two weeks, had barely eaten in just as long, looked frazzle and on the brink of death, had neglected all responsibilities and duties –

But it might pay off.

It might pay off.

Arthur clutched a ten year old letter within the pocket of his suit jacket as Cenred led him down the stairs of the prison cells, his stomach churning despite the miniscule amount of food he had eaten that day. In his mind, he knew he was nervous, but he couldn’t let that show. Not now, not when it was so important.

“So after today can I put him on the operation list?” Cenred asked tetchily. Arthur knew that Cenred believed him to be infringing on his territory with this control of his prisoner, but Arthur couldn’t give less of a damn right now. Hopefully it would all disappear soon.

“Yes,” Arthur said in a neutral tone. To be honest, he was shocked Merlin had waited the fortnight in the cell. But maybe Merlin wanted to believe, just like he did, that a story could have a happy ending. “I just require one more DNA sample from him. After that, he’s in your more than capable hands.”

The compliment seemed to satisfy Cenred, if his smirk was anything to go by. It was important that the man didn’t find anything amiss, however.

The pair of them came to a stop in front of Merlin’s cell, and Arthur gave Cenred a piercing glare to dissuade him from following Arthur inside.

Merlin sat on the bench opposite Arthur, more hunched over than the previous times Arthur had visited here. Obviously, after two weeks of waiting, he hadn’t been expecting anyone. There was a glimmer of something that wasn’t annoyance in his eyes, though.

“You came,” Merlin said with a sigh and a shake of his head. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t.”

“Then why did you stay?”

Merlin shrugged as if Arthur was supposed to know the answer on his own. Arthur decided to disregard this gesture and get straight on to business.

“The guards on shift staring at ten o’clock have tranquilizing drugs placed in their drinks,” Arthur explained to Merlin. “You have roughly twenty minutes before Cenred Slate, the head of the prison, is alerted that the guards are not checking in. Try to get a weapon before then so you can blast down the main door. The alarms will sound, but if you run fast enough and can disappear into a crowd…”

Merlin nodded, but his eyes betrayed him. He knew this plan was dependent on a lot of variables going right – but he also hopefully knew that Arthur would try his hardest not to let him down.

He’d already done enough of that.

“Can this be traced back to you at all?” was Merlin’s only question regarding the matter. Arthur stared at him for a moment, unsure of how to respond.

“No,” he lied, “and why does it matter?”

“Just want to make sure that you’ll…be okay. After this is over,” Merlin looked at him critically, as if searching for any sign that Arthur wasn’t staying here. Arthur couldn’t betray himself now, though; he had too much riding on this, and if it ended up not working…

There was the false hope again.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry,” Arthur brushed off his words as fast as he could. Desperate to change the subject, he reached into his pocket to pull out the old, faded letter. “Here. This is for you.”

“When you said you had something for me, I was hoping for a weapon,” Merlin looked at him critically, but with laughing eyes as he took the paper from Arthur’s outstretched hand. “What is it?”

“Something you should read,” Arthur responded as truthfully as he wanted to for now. “It’ll entertain you while you wait for evening to roll around.”

“Thanks,” Merlin said, smiling grimly. “And not just for this. I hope...that I haven’t expended all of my hope yet. That I still have some leftover to wish for something else.”

“I wish…” Arthur struggled to find words, stepping forward to touch Merlin’s face tentatively with his hand, brushing his hair out of the way of his eyes, so he could look at them one more time, in case it was the last. Merlin’s expression didn’t change. Well. Maybe it grew a little sadder. “I wish for a lot of things. I hope that someday you know what they are.”

Merlin closed his eyes, breathing deeply as he leaned into Arthur’s touch. “I’m glad that I got to see you again. To know that you weren’t all gone. That my Arthur is still in there somewhere.”

Arthur found he couldn’t speak, so he simply wrapped his arms around Merlin’s neck and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

 _I hope I see you soon,_ Arthur wanted to say, but couldn’t.

* * *

 

Arthur knew every word of the letter that he had given Merlin – despite his promise to himself that he would never open it, he had torn the seal almost immediately after the operation, desperate to know what emotions were like, how they were different now, and he had reread it nearly as many times as Brave New World.

He went over the words of the letter in his head, to keep his focus as he mixed together a serum that would determine his fate.

_Merlin –_

_It’s May 21 st, and I’m about seven hours away from having the operation. I know you’re out in the woods somewhere, probably desperately hoping that I’m on my way. But I’m not – which is why you will almost certainly never see this letter, unless you’re right and we really do meet again someday._

_I almost hope we don’t. I don’t want you to see me after tomorrow._

_I can’t tell you how sorry I am that I’m not on my way to you right now. It’s tearing me apart – but you already knew that. The fact of the matter is that I’m not as brave as you, Merlin. You can do these wonderful and terrible and overwhelming things, but I can only do them when I’m with you._

_I know what you’d say – first of all, that I’m capable of doing and being anything I want to be, and second of all, you would be there anyway, always with me, because you love me._

_But love isn’t meant to last forever._

_I would rather have forever with you than anything else, and neither of us can promise that to each other. I’m too scared – scared that we’ll fail, that you’ll realize that I’m terrible and inept and most certainly not good enough for you._

_And I’m scared of letting down this society that I’ve grown up entangled with. It’s a part of me, a part that I can never change._

_But you’re a part of me now, too, which is why I can never forget you. Never. I don’t care if I can’t love, I will find a way to make myself remember how important you are, how much I needed you, how you were the bravest and most wonderful man I have ever met, or ever will meet._

_It grieves me to say it – but you’re a better person than me. I hope you go off and have grand adventures with someone who can give you the love that you deserve. The love that I can’t give you. Because I’m not a rebel or revolutionary – I’m society’s legacy. I continue it on the path my father did. That’s my lot in life, and has been since the day I was born._

_I never questioned it until you._

_If you’re right and the operation blocks out all emotion, then I’ll never feel happiness again. But I know that I’d have a hell of a job feeling it anyway, knowing that you’re still out there, without me._

_I don’t ask that you continue to love me, because that’s unfair to the both of us. But if you ever, by some miracle, read this letter – remember me._

_Remember reading books together on your worn sofa, or the time we laughed ourselves silly in your bedroom during that party. Remember throwing food at each other in your kitchen. Remember what it felt like to kiss me. I was probably rubbish at it, but that’s okay. It’s a good memory regardless._

_And finally, of course, I need to say it one last time before I can never say it again – I love you, Merlin. For seven more hours, I love you._

_Arthur_

And, because Arthur hadn’t been able to stop himself, before he gave Merlin the letter he had scribbled a simple message on the back of the piece of worn paper.

_Wait for me one more time?_

After all, his plan, against all odds, might work.

Recounting the last words of his twentieth year had gotten him through preparing almost all of the serum he had so meticulously researched over these past two weeks. He had gone with the neutralizing agent option, finding the right mixture of drugs to counteract those in the original serum. Arthur hadn’t paved through ancient medical texts like that since university.

And yet here he was – and if this needle could do its job properly –

Arthur flicked it a couple of times to make sure the serum dispersed evenly. He reached around his back to feel for the tiny scar at the top of his spinal column where the initial serum had entered his body. If he had managed to do all of his calculations correctly, then this serum would work in the exact same way, counteracting each of the effects that the operation had brought about.

It would be easier if he had another person there to help him, but this wasn’t something that Arthur could explain to anyone in this society. He could barely explain it to himself.

He slotted the needle over his back, felt it line up, and pushed.

He could feel the effects immediately; he knew because he immediately fell to the ground, knocking over the library’s desk with him, spikes of adrenaline shooting through his body. The operation dulled feeling immediately, so Arthur knew he had to give his body as much feeling as possible to give his mind a fighting chance.

Gasping for breath on the library floor, Arthur felt something that was only a distant memory, a dull point in his heart.

_Pain._

He laughed himself through it, delighted that the serum seemed to be doing its job – _delighted._ He was _delighted._

A barrage of emotions overcame him next, and Arthur could name every last one of them. Joy, sorrow, wistfulness, hope, regret, melancholy, and _happiness._

An unprecedented amount of time later, Arthur lay flat on his back on the library floor, gasping for breath through both laughter and tears.

He had _done_ it.

The second that thought occurred to him, another took its place – he wouldn’t have had to do this in the first place if he had just followed Merlin in the first place.

 _Nine years,_ a sick feeling twisted up Arthur’s insides. _Nine years you missed with him._

Though regret spanned Arthur’s entire being, he knew that those nine years ago, he couldn’t have made this decision. He had suffered, and Merlin had suffered, for all of these years because of today.

Because today Arthur could choose Merlin.

Arthur nearly cried in relief, ecstasy, joy, sorrow, every reason a person _could_ cry.

Arthur had that now.

He scrambled to his feet, glancing down at his wristwatch – it was nearly eleven. Merlin should have left by now, and if he had waited for Arthur – for surely he must have waited for Arthur – please, _please_ let him have waited for Arthur –

However, with a glance over at his desk, with the leftover serum sitting on top of it in a petri dish, Arthur knew that his duty wasn’t done quite yet.

He hurriedly grabbed a pen and paper, and took a moment to contemplate who would be sent to his house to look through his belongings. Mithian, as his ex-wife? Probably not – she had no connection to him anymore. George, his personal assistant? Likely, but Arthur hated that idea.

But Leon, his lab assistant – now that was a man that could easily be here, and one that Arthur could trust with such an important task.

_Leon –_

_Look into the drugs in this serum. I think you’ll know what to do with them. You still know the difference between right and wrong._

_Arthur_

Satisfied that it was enough, Arthur raced toward the door, desperate to get into the wilderness, east, a mile out, where Merlin _had_ to be waiting.

And if he wasn’t –

Then Arthur would find him.

It was as simple as that.

His final thought before leaving was to rush to his favorite shelf and pick up the collected plays of William Shakespeare.

After the hell Arthur had put him through, Merlin deserved some sort of compensation.

* * *

 

The streets were less than deserted, what with a prisoner on the loose, but as Arthur was Arthur, he managed to avoid suspicion until the last possible second, when he ducked into an alley just across from the spot where he knew the underground tunnel was to throw a hood over his face.

After making sure there were no guards policing the area, Arthur ran at top speed to the tunnel, and after minimal digging, popped open what looked like a sewer grate.

It was disgusting and cramped as hell, but Arthur knew it was only twenty feet long. It felt like at least a hundred with the stench, but still, Arthur managed to crawl out of it unscathed at the opposite end.

He took a moment to stare through the thicket of trees at the wall that encased his city. He would never see it again – hopefully.

The truth was, Arthur wasn’t entirely confident in his ability to measure a mile, but he figured that if he kept walking straight, and Merlin was there, he would find out what a mile was.

If not, well –

Like he said before. He would find Merlin no matter what.

Emotion coursed through his body at speeds and tempers Arthur could barely recall, and it was the most wonderful experience of his life. He had forgotten what it felt to feel passion, truly and wholly, and it was beautiful.

But all he wanted to do was see Merlin.

Because he loved him.

After all these years, Arthur loved Merlin with every fiber of his being, the love only made stronger and more powerful after so many years of separation, because now Arthur knew what love meant.

It meant he would follow Merlin to the ends of the earth, the rest of the world be damned.

Still, he couldn’t help but worry as he plodded on – worry that there were guards in the forest that would capture him and report him as a traitor, worry that Merlin hadn’t made it out of the society, that he had passed Merlin by without realizing it, worry that Merlin hadn’t seen his message, or worse, that he had and left Arthur alone anyway –

“Arthur?”

Arthur froze in his place, looking around for the source of his voice. He had almost chalked it up to imagination before the bush in front of him said “You’re making a fucking racket.”

Merlin’s face appeared in the thicket, and despite his sarcastic words, there were tears on his face as he gazed at Arthur as if the world was just a waste and the only people in it were the two of them.

“Fuck off,” Arthur managed to breathe before making an even worse racket by striding forward and wrapping Merlin in his arms.

“You came,” Merlin whispered into his shoulder as he arms tightened around Arthur’s neck. “Oh, God, you really came.”

“I did,” Arthur buried his head in Merlin’s neck, breathing in the scent of the forest around them, teetering on the precipice of tears.

“We’ll make this work,” Arthur could feel Merlin shake against him. “I promise, we will. I still love you so much, Arthur – I always have. I couldn’t let you go. And it’s okay that you can’t love me back yet – you came. It’s a start. We’ll figure it out.”

“ _Merlin_.” Tears really did spring to Arthur’s eyes as he pulled himself away from Merlin to hold him at an arm’s length and look into his eyes, so wide with tears and hope. “Merlin, why do you think it took me two weeks to come see you? I was trying to make a _cure_. And I did.”

“A – a cure?” Merlin went slack jawed, eyes wide as saucers. “You made a cure?”

Arthur nodded, water freely falling from his eyes now, and he really couldn’t care less. “I did. I don’t know if it’ll last – I brought another dose of it just in case – we could try to recreate it – I’m not sure if I’ll –”

He was cut off by Merlin kissing him, long and hard, wrapping him up in his embrace, and the world around them truly did disappear for a moment.

“Like I said,” Merlin choked out through his tears as he finally pulled away, “we’ll make it work.”

“I love you so much,” Arthur told him, and his heart soared because after nine years, he could finally mean those words.

“I’ve only dreamt about hearing you say that again,” Merlin’s breath stuttered, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again, and suddenly his gaze was much clearer. “We have to get out of here before the guards realize we’re not in the city. Come on – there’s a safe place to rest nearby. And after that –”

“I don’t care where we go after,” Arthur inserted himself when Merlin paused. “As long as I’m with you, nothing else matters.”

* * *

 

Merlin led him around the forest for what seemed like a century, though in reality Arthur knew that it hadn’t grown light yet, so it wasn’t yet morning. He didn’t know what direction they were headed, mainly because he was too focused on Merlin’s fingers entwined with his own. Regardless, he couldn’t be sure where Merlin was taking them – some sort of hole in the ground, or a mossy bed of grass away from prying eyes?

The hole in the ground turned out to be a more accurate description, for the place where Merlin stopped was what looked like a door in the side of a hill.

“Come on,” Merlin nudged Arthur forward gently before he knocked on the door and said “Looking for Ghost and Ghoul. This is Dragon – plus one.”

“Code names, really?” Arthur hid a grin.

“Jealous much? I’ll pick one out for you later.”

It only took a moment for the door to creek open and a girl’s voice to say “Merlin? Oh, thank God. We thought you had been taken.”

“ _That’s_ what you’re worried about?” Another female voice echoed toward them, brassier and more commanding than the other. “Did you _not_ hear him say plus one? Has Merlin finally succeeded on his epic quest to find true love?”

“That’s Arthur?” The girl in the doorway whispered, and suddenly, the door was flung open to reveal not a girl, but a woman probably older than Arthur himself, with long brown curls, a bright smile, and the kindest eyes Arthur had ever seen.

“You know me?” Arthur asked, not sure how to proceed. He glanced over at Merlin, who was making a face. “You talked about me?”

“Minimally,” Merlin muttered under his breath, but Arthur couldn’t help but smile.

“I’m Gwen,” the woman reached forward to shake Arthur’s hand. He met her grasp, but then found himself pulled inside by her surprisingly strong grip. “My wife, Morgana, is somewhere around here. You heard her being snarky earlier. Morgana!”

“Wife?” Arthur said quietly to Merlin, who had followed him in the doorway, closing it behind him.

“Yeah,” Merlin replied a bit bashfully, probably because he knew what Arthur was thinking.

“I’m here, darling,” another woman came forward out of a dark tunnel leading into the earth and into the small area they were standing in – it was like a room, except for it was made entirely of dirt with nothing else.

Morgana was a beautiful woman, her black hair and pale skin a perfect match. She wasn’t genuine or bubbly like Gwen; she had an undefinable aura of elegance to her, out of place underneath the ground in a room made out of dirt.

“Well, why don’t we invite them inside?” Morgana gestured down the dark hallway, also presumably made of dirt. “It’s rude to keep guests waiting.”

“Do you – have a lot of guests?” Arthur reached for Merlin’s hand in the darkness as they followed the two women down the tunnel.

“We’re a bit of a crossroads for runaways,” Gwen’s light and airy voice floated through the tunnel. “A lot of the camps for big groups of them are much further away from the cities, but we provide safe haven for those who are fresh escapees. We don’t mind it, really – the camps are lovely, I try to go and visit my brother there when I can, but I like my privacy here. And we get to help people, which is the greatest reward of all.”

“Enough about us, though,” Morgana interrupted. “How about the two of _you_? Tell me, Merlin, how you managed to gain back the love of your life after all these years of endless heartache and, dare I say it, brooding and moping?”

“I did not brood nor mope,” Merlin a bit too defensively, and Arthur squeezed his hand for lack of a better option in the darkness. “And, like the idiot I am, I got captured. Which turned out to be the greatest thing ever, because I got to see Arthur again. And he came with me. End of story.”

“That is _not_ the end of the story.” Arthur could hear Gwen’s eye-roll in her speech. “Arthur, you had the operation done, right?”

“Yes,” Arthur answered truthfully, and Merlin kicked him in the shin.

“Then how the hell did you convince him to leave?”

“I am irresistibly charming,” Merlin deadpanned, and Arthur had to laugh.

He let Merlin tell a very abridged version of the story as they trekked through the cave. Arthur’s mind wandered as he considered where they could possibly be headed. Wherever it was, it seemed like it was deep enough in the earth that they were safe.

Finally, their small caravan came to halt, one of the women scraping at what sounded like it had to be a wooden door. A moment later, the four of them were blinded with light.

“It’s – it’s a _house_ ,” Arthur said uncertainly, disbelievingly, as he and Merlin followed Gwen and Morgana inside. It was a small house, clearly made underground, but it was a house nonetheless. There was a kitchen table and chairs, cupboards, a sofa with books on a coffee table, and on one side of a dividing wall, a bed. “How did you hear us knocking from all the way back here?”

Gwen pointed at the wall behind them. Arthur turned to see a screen against the wall, with a black-and-white picture of the forest displayed on it. But it was more than that – the trees were _moving_.

“It’s a security camera,” Gwen explained as Arthur stared.

“Whoa,” he marveled. “I’ve…never seen anything like it before.”

“The two of you want something to eat?” Morgana asked pleasantly as she regarded them, though Arthur could still see her wit and fire from previous comments.

This led to Arthur asking about how they had access to food, which spiraled into a long conversation about the alliances and politics between factions of rebels that had left the cities, leaving Arthur’s head spinning as he began to process this new world that he had become a part of without really knowing what he was getting into.

Well, he thought as he watched Merlin’s wild gesticulations as he tried to explain crop distribution. He knew the most important thing.

Ages later, Arthur found himself curled up on the floor next to Merlin, their arms wrapped around each other, neither of them sleeping despite the soft snores echoing from Morgana and Gwen’s bed.

“What’s in your pocket?” Merlin asked him, wrinkling up his nose as he reached into Arthur’s hoodie. “It feels like –”

“A book,” Arthur said quietly, biting his lip in anticipation as Merlin pulled away from him to read the title in the warm glow of the single lamp left on. “The Collected Plays of William Shakespeare. For you.”

Merlin’s eyes went soft and teary again, and he turned back to Arthur with an expression of wonderment. “Oh, sweetheart, _thank you_.”

Merlin lifted Arthur’s hand up to his kiss it before bridging the space between them to kiss Arthur on the lips.

“Real reason I had to stay for nine years,” Arthur said half-jokingly. “To get you that book.”

“I’d rather have a book than you any day,” Merlin said with a besotted shake of his head.

“I know,” Arthur said quietly, and pulled Merlin closer to him, burying his face in Merlin’s chest. “I’m sorry that we didn’t get those nine years. I was an idiot.”

“No,” Merlin said, pressing kisses into Arthur’s neck. “You weren’t. You did what you thought was right. Would I have loved to have those nine years? Of course. Was I fucking pissed at you that we didn’t have them? Absolutely. But now – who knows how many more years we’ll have together.”

Arthur was too overcome with emotion to speak.

And that in itself was a miracle.

“Hey,” Merlin said a moment later. “I told you that I would write you a happy ending, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” Arthur smiled even though Merlin couldn’t see his face. “You did. Thanks for never giving up on me.”

He breathed in deeply, and for the first time in years, didn’t feel empty.

He felt complete.


End file.
